


Not Every Bird Deserves a Cage

by Everlasting_Wonders



Series: Not Every Bird Deserves A Cage [1]
Category: DreamSMP, Hermitcraft RPF, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Antarctic Empire, BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD, Blood and Gore, Captivity, Comfort, Death Threats, Flowers, Fluff, Flying, Friendship, Hybrid AU, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kidnapping, Kingdom of Manberg, No Romance, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Third Person, Royalty, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, SoftForGremlinChildTechno, Swearing, Symbolism, Threats of Violence, Unconsciousness, Violence, Wings, kingdom au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:14:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 43,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29007375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Everlasting_Wonders/pseuds/Everlasting_Wonders
Summary: All Prince Tommy wants in life is to rule the skies alongside his adopted father and siblings. When an urgent message concerning the Antarctic Empire's dearest allies, the Hermit Kingdom, arrives, Tommy quickly finds himself attempting to maintain a blossoming friendship while being trapped in the crossfire of a war.-----------------------------------Updated at least once a week
Series: Not Every Bird Deserves A Cage [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2128002
Comments: 42
Kudos: 180





	1. Chapter 1

Tommy’s never taken a liking to the grey walls that always appear to hug the castle, each extending stone segment separated solely by a configuration of elaborate towers connected to each other. Guards in gleaming iron armor walk across the wall frequently, surveying the area as much as possible before heading back into the next tower. It leaves the blonde-haired prince with little to no privacy whenever the hallways begin to crowd him a touch more than usual, forcing him to retreat into the yard to get a breath of fresh air. He can only keep the golden wings sprouting from his back cramped up for so long before they start demanding to feel the wind coarse through each neatly defined feather. 

Unlike his father, he’s unable to hide the urge to stretch out his wings whenever possible, even if it means he takes up the entirety of the hallway leaving no room for a servant to slip by. He simply can’t imagine the ache in Philza’s joints from holding his wings up properly as well; the man maintains an impressive 28-foot wingspan while Tommy’s constantly been informed that he has a mere 21-foot wingspan. 

_Christ, if I’m already feeling cramped in the halls, no wonder Phil hates walking down certain hallways._

The adopted prince will never understand why the _king_ of the Antarctic Empire profusely refuses to reconstruct castle hallways to better accustom the bird hybrids of the family. 

Now that he thinks about it, Philza might’ve mentioned how wide hallways are triggering for Wilbur, ‘making him feel disoriented’, whatever the fuck that means. His nose crinkles slightly in distaste over the idea of having to grow accustomed to cramped spaces just to appease his older brother. 

_Thank God Techno’s next in line; Wilbur’s first decree as king would be him bitching about some archway that’s built too wide._

A snort erupts from Tommy’s throat as he mauls over how true the thought is, his bright blue gaze glancing toward the clouded sky above him. The scent of rain dances excitedly on his tongue in a silent announcement of the droplets of water that should soon be cascading through the crisp air. 

Admittedly, the youngest prince has always held rainy weather in high regard; it’s a use of distraction that works quite well with him. The cool sensation of water collecting on his pale skin provides a tranquil sense of both purpose and comfort to him. It’s as though each drop of rain serves as a pinch, constantly reassuring the teenager that his newfound life of luxury isn’t some torturous dream that’ll be yanked away from him when the sun rises. The reminder that he leads a life of royalty and not back on the grimy streets is a high he could ride for as long as the sky would let him. 

The castle is always left to Tommy whenever the weather turns to anything but clear, both his siblings having a distinct hatred for the grieving sky and thus residing in their room until it’s deemed ‘safe’ enough to come out. However, the idea that the rain is the sky’s way of weeping had never deterred him from declaring it as his favorite time to take flight. Besides, having his unique interest in something neither of his brothers are fond of is an exciting way to spend his downtime. 

Philza is what he calls being ‘on the fence’ about the dreary weather. Only occasionally can Tommy catch a glimpse of his father mindlessly roaming the massive gardens during a harsh downpour, his dark grey wings always displayed and lifted as though he’s attempting to shield someone from the cold water. He used to do the same thing when Tommy was first adopted into the family, the king had used his wings to keep his newest son dry in the rain as they spoke about the blossoming tulips dancing to the howling wind. 

Despite the young prince having grown out of that routine rather quickly, he still catches the king strolling about the garden with his wings lifted as though Tommy’s still seeking cover from the rain under them. He’s never once questioned the continuation of the action, worry nipping at his nerves every time in fear that he’d be told to go inside before he caught a cold. 

Now there’s a subtle, unspoken agreement between the two royal members that as long as they mind their own business, then they won’t fuss over each other’s actions. 

Tommy stirs from his thoughts when a chilling buzz taps gently at his hand, the blonde quickly bringing himself back to reality. Another buzz drips down one of the feathers on his exposed wings and he tilts his head upward to ensure that the grey sky is truly delivering the childish prince the promise of rain. He receives his confirmation as a droplet plops right onto his right eye, an excited curse eliciting from his mouth before his fingers wipe gingerly to clear his gaze. 

His lengthy wings instinctively spread out as the tingling sensation of rain swirling down each feather overwhelms his senses. Exhilarating energy floods his veins as he bursts off the ground with a single swoop of his wings, a few minuscule feathers shedding onto the dampening floor as the prince throws himself into the sky. The blonde pays no mind to the feeling of his t-shirt's damp fabric clasp desperately around his skin, instead focusing on the bubble of relief encasing his mind that he isn’t wearing the red vest Wilbur had been begging him to wear for the past few days. 

He doesn’t have to fret over keeping up a royal appearance in the sky. He could soar to his heart’s content without the worry of looking childish in the public’s eyes; even if a commoner did see him flying, who is he to judge the prince’s sense of style? The only person he truly has to worry about meeting in the sky in Philza, someone who wouldn’t even bash on him for wearing what the family addresses as ‘comfort clothes’. 

Not like the king could speak when his comfort outfit currently resides as a dark green robe with a thin black covering. 

Childish glee bursts within Tommy’s chest as the intensity of the rain begins to pick up, the sweet scent of water becoming nearly overwhelming to him. The drizzle he felt when he originally took to the sky transforms into pelting drops of liquid within a few seconds, water grasping tightly onto his blonde hair. The minuscule molecules appear to fight their lives as wind whips past the gliding hybrid, threatening to allow the drops of water to drop back down onto the earth. 

He doesn’t mind the harsh taps of each drop smacking into his wings or forehead, conscious currently fixating on flying as high into the atmosphere as he possibly can. His arms outstretch as the low-hanging clouds grow closer to his rocketing frame, hugging at the disappearing collections of water while he plows through them. Beads of condensation cling to his clothes in a weak attempt to drag him back down to earth, silent pleads issuing themselves toward the teenager. 

Tommy blatantly ignores the pleads when the comforting warmth of the dying sun engulfs his skin, his once grey world turning shades of orange and pink as he soars above the clouds. 

A light breeze tickles at the water droplets cascading down his face, his acceleration upward slowing so that the prince can slowly flip himself over. His wings flare in response, flicking droplets of water into the atmosphere and successfully drying most feathers. The blonde’s nostrils flare slightly in triumph, swiftly righting himself and hovering over the valley of clouds dangling below him to inspect the view. 

The entirety of the Antarctic Empire is covered by an array of colors the sky reflects on top of the once dark-grey clouds. It’s an endless chasm of tranquility, as though all his stressful worries had fallen away with the rain. Not even the castle is visible, the hole he had made in the clouds having quickly been covered up by other swirls of clouds. 

Here, it’s only Tommy and the ever-expanding sky that the sun can illuminate, not a single trace of human life existing for him to discover. Come to think of it, the prince is certain that nobody within the royal family is even aware that the youngest is out on a short flight. He hadn’t seen a single soul on his way out to the courtyard, the castle having been suspiciously absent of people as he had sprinted through the halls in excitement. 

Or perhaps the castle’s staff recognized that the blonde would be sprinting down the halls around that time and put a schedule together to avoid possibly getting dragged into an argument with the young prince. 

Either way, he’s slightly grateful that it hadn’t been a bitch and a half attempting to get outside and stretch his wings. Besides, why would it ever be wrong for the avian to demand that he be allowed to go outside? With Philza also being a bird hybrid, almost everyone within the castle should be well aware of how crucial fresh air is to them. 

There’s no other feeling quite like the wind whistling gently around him as he soars through the air. 

God, he’ll have to drag Philza up here on a different cloudy day; he’s been noticing the heavy bags under his father’s eyes worsen over the past few weeks as he keeps himself busy with reports from neighboring kingdoms. He can’t even recall the last time the older avian went out flying to calm his nerves and relax. 

The man deserves a break from those stresses, goddamnit. 

Tommy slowly begins to lower himself closer to the valley of clouds engulfing his kingdom at the idea of Philza still locking himself away in his room, reading letter after letter from other kingdoms. His wings hesitate in their attempt to descend the prince back into the clouds when water droplets eagerly yank at his leather shoes. His face scrunches in disgust as the feeling of wet fabric dragging him back to earth adds touches of weight to him. 

He’ll give into Earth’s gravitational pull when he wants to, not when some heavy beads of water decide he should. 

The avian’s pair of shoes and socks are both peeled off without another thought, a bizarre feeling of delight conquering his features over the unnecessary weight being shed. His bare feet reflecting into his bright blue eyes almost reminds him of his flights before he was adopted by Philza; the days when he never knew where his next meal would come from or what it would be. 

The worry of food becomes irrelevant in the sky’s loving embrace; the overwhelming sensation of freedom had easily suppressed any pangs of hunger that he’d felt during those times of anguish. 

Tommy’s shoulders can’t taste but tense slightly as memories of moments when he didn’t have enough energy to flee to the sky fill his conscious. They serve as constant reminders as to why he so desperately prioritizes his time and ability to explore the sky. After nearly two weeks with not even a scrap of food from the streets, the harsh reality that he had lacked the energy to properly flap his wings had sent him spiraling into a state of panic. 

It only took three days of being kept from the sky for Tommy to swallow down his pride and begin to bed others for food. Each refusal from someone carrying food had felt like a kick to his empty stomach, his attempts growing more anguish-filled with every disgusted expression that had been shot his way. He can still recall the day he followed a noble around for an entire day with the promise that he’d receive a few scraps of bread as his payment. 

On some days, the prince finds himself silently appreciating the horrifying situation he had been put into as an orphan. It led to Philza finding the starving child hiding behind a couple of empty crates, soaked to the brim from rain and concerningly easy to carry. The king had immediately swept the avian into his wings before whisking him off to the palace. 

The sky no longer serves as an escape from the harsh drag of reality; nowadays he verbally expresses it as a break from Wilbur’s bitching attitude. A small grin lights the young prince’s face over the memory of his older brother’s face when he overheard Tommy sharing his reasons for flying out in the rain to their father. 

The chimes of distant bells cause an eyebrow to lift curiously, the prince uncertain as to why the bells are being set off. He carefully cranes his neck to see if he’s able to catch a glimpse of the castle through the fog of the clouds, leaning downwards when it’s discovered that he can’t see a thing below the objects. He waits patiently for the rings of the bells to stop, counting on his finger the number of chimes dancing playfully in the howling wind. 

_Once._

_Twice._

_Three times._

_Four._

_Five._

_Six-_

Tommy's body suddenly falls limp after the sixth chime, his frame plummeting to the ground as his wings curl tightly around his body. Pellets of rain tap excitedly at his feet as he dives under the blanket of clouds, his world becoming grey yet again. 

His eyes fixate themselves on the approaching ground below him, gaze briefly catching sight of the lowering drawbridge not far from where the young prince is attempting to land. His wings momentarily uncurl themselves, golden feathers twisting in protest over the sudden change of direction before they’re once again wrapped tightly around his soaked body. 

Waves of adrenaline rush through his veins as fine details of the castle begin to stand out to him, silently counting the number of minuscule cracks that dig into old towers. A smile of satisfaction lights his face as he locates his target, a large stagecoach painted in familiar white and gold colors pulled up not far from the entrance doors to the castle. 

He doesn’t need to see the image of a golden toad painted on the side of the vehicle to know it holds the royal family of the Hermit Kingdom, both one of the wealthiest kingdoms known to man and the Antarctic Empire’s closest ally. 

King Xisuma and Prince Grian regularly enjoy spending time at the castle, and it’s not irregular for them to arrive unannounced. In Tommy’s opinion, it just added to the mysterious behavior surrounding the kingdom. 

The avian prince’s golden wings suddenly spring to life, a powerful flap leaving him hovering mere inches above the ground before gingerly placing him on the brick pathway that leads to the castle’s grand entrance. He brushes off the cool feeling of water pooling around his feet, the excitement rioting through his mind eagerly taking place of the uncomfortable feeling. 

His challenging gaze lifts, mouth twisting into a shit-eating grin as he begins to tease the royals for their unannounced visit, shoulders tense in case he’s tackled to the ground in a hug from Grian. 

“Hello, Tommy.” 

The prince’s heart drops. 

Confusion floods his gaze when his blue eyes don’t meet the chaotic eyes belonging to Prince Grian, nor the signature amused smile of King Xisuma. Instead, he’s left staring shocked at a pair of soul-piercing green orbs barely hiding behind a white mask made of clay. He can make out a few cracks in the object, feathers subconsciously ruffling to further display his confusion. 

The man standing in front of him exhibits a dark green vest, three buckles tied at his stomach. An archer’s hood is propped up, hiding most of his messy blonde hair except for a few stray strands. His mouth and nose are completely hidden from view by the previously examined mask, a taunting smile painted in black where the man’s mouth should reside. 

That smile does not retain a single trace of friendliness. 

“That’s _Prince_ Tommy to you, bitch.” 

Satisfaction pools within the soaked prince’s gaze as the green eyes harden ever so slightly, the fire in his gaze briefly extinguished in favor of displaying disgust. The expression doesn’t remain for long, the stranger quickly composing himself and straightening his posture as he looks down at the avian. 

“A prince who doesn’t wear shoes?” the rich voice drips with suspicion and doubt, the man holding the prince’s ice-blue gaze that’s currently beginning to fill with both embarrassment and tinges of fury. 

“You have an issue with that?” Tommy snaps back, dampened feathers puffing out as he stands in the rain with the stranger. The green man stands at about the same height as the teenager, though his gaze points downwards in a way that makes the prince feel insignificant in his eyes. 

“Stop squabbling with a child, Dream,” an accented voice stemming from inside the stagecoach scolds. The prince watches stiffly as a shorter fellow dressed in a light blue coat steps out of the carriage, a forced smile trapped on his rounded face as he stares at the taller prince. The man’s dark brown hair curls slightly on the top of his forehead, each strand jolting as he takes a step toward the angered teenager. A pair of white goggles lay neatly on top of his sleek hair, water droplets beginning to collect on the black lenses. His outfit features a white collared shirt hiding beneath his coast and vest, silver swirls decorating each article of clothing. “And go fetch me an umbrella.” 

The man, apparently named Dream, opens his mouth as though to argue loudly, only muttering a few words toward the other before he begrudgingly turns back toward the stagecoach. He’s quickly handed a black umbrella by the driver, opening the object with ease before lowering it so that the newcomers aren’t being pelted by the rain. 

Tommy silently notes the almost comical height difference between the two men, a slight bend in Dreams knees evident so that the umbrella isn’t too high for the brunette. It nearly distracts him from the fact that these two strangers have arrived in a vehicle reserved solely for the royal family of the Hermit Kingdom. 

The prince doesn’t attempt to shield himself from the chilling water dripping onto his skin, his wings curled behind his back despite the worsening weather. “Alright, you’ve got your damned umbrella. Where’s Grian?” 

“Grian?” the short brunette echoes, a white-gloved hand briefly readjusting the white goggles that bounce comfortably on his fluffy hair. His head barely tilts upward as he shares a glance with Dream, a question forming on his tongue. 

“I don’t think his whereabouts currently concern you,” Dream begins, focusing back toward the fuming prince standing in front of them. “Besides, shouldn’t you be off alerting ‘daddy’ of our presence?” 

Tommy’s nostrils and wings flare in response, glaring daggers into Dream’s bored green eyes. His mouth wrenches open to snap out a response, fire raging within his eyes. 

“Don’t mind him; he’s just pissed off I had him walk halfway here on foot,” the brunette explains with a slightly apologetic expression. An eyebrow lifts as he catches sight of the fact that Tommy is in fact missing shoes and royal clothing. He almost comments on how the teenager’s wearing a soaked t-shirt and pants, though he quickly decides to hold his tongue instead. “I’m George and we’re here to speak with King Philza. We have urgent news concerning the Hermit Kingdom.” 

“Urgent news or not, I wanna know where the fuck Grian and Xisuma are.” 

Dream can’t stop himself from clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, earning a glare from both George and Tommy. “If you’d been listening-” 

“Actually, our news concerns the both of them,” George interjects, annoyance aimed toward his companion distinct in his features. “We were given orders to not share the news until we’re in King Philza’s presence.” 

Tommy hesitates as he takes the time to register the words falling from the brunette’s lips. He carefully studies the man in front of him, stiffening slightly at the tight smile the shorter still wears on his face. “Absolutely not, dickhead. If it concerns Grian then I deserve to hear the news first.” 

The avian can practically feel the impatience suddenly surrounding the brunette; he definitely hit a nerve somewhere within that sentence. Dream must’ve been able to sense it as well, considering the man steps forward to address the prince directly yet again. 

“Listen, kid. We’re here to do our jobs. You don’t want to see what happens when someone interferes with our business, do you?” 

“I’m not a kid,” Tommy bitterly responds, back straightening as much as possible at the realization that he’s being threatened. A hiss escapes his lips when a look of amusement flashes within Dream’s gaze, the man blatantly uncaring as to whether the prince likes to be addressed as a kid or not. 

“We’ll see about that.” 

The young prince isn’t given time to respond before the two newcomers begin to take strides toward the castle doors, steps matching each other. He instantly bristles, wings lashing out in order to stop the pair from passing by him. 

“Absolutely not, you prick. You can’t just march up here being all ominous and shit and expect that Phil’s magically going to agree to see you-!” 

“Tommy.” 

The hybrid whirls around at the sweet voice of his father, golden wings immediately tucking in at the expectant expression on Philza’s face. “Ah, hey, Phil.” 

God does he despise the way his voice gently shakes as though he’s been caught stealing one of Wilbur’s biscuits. 

“Care to explain?” Philza asks, amusement glittering within his blue eyes. He’s not truly frustrated with his youngest son, though he’d love to have an explanation as to why he was alerted of the Hermit Kingdom’s royal stagecoach arriving with no previous notice. Not to mention there are two strangers his son is attempting to keep from entering the castle. 

George’s gaze lights up at the arrival of the king, offering a polite bow toward the older. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, King Philza Watson of the Antarctic Empire.” 

Both Tommy and Philza seem to make faces at the full title. 

“Oh please, King Philza will do just fine,” the king insists; Tommy can swear he hears hints of embarrassment seep into his father’s voice. 

“Of course, your highness; my name is George,” the brunette begins before he makes a gesture toward his masked companion standing at attention beside him. The taller of the pair still holds the umbrella in hand, Philza and Tommy willingly standing out in the rain without one. “And this is Dream. We’ve come from the Hermit Kingdom with urgent news.” 

Philza hesitates at George’s phrasing of the sentence, an eyebrow raising as his gaze meet’s the brunette’s calm expression. A silent conversation appears to be had between the two before the king swiftly turns and beckons the group toward the entrance to the castle. The king doesn’t mind the rain soaking his dark green robe, his wings still respectfully tucked behind his back as he walks. 

Tommy practically scrambles to catch up to his father’s patient steps, taking short strides to match the set pace. He tilts his head slightly to the side so that the newcomers are still within his line of sight, not trusting them to successfully walk behind the pair. What on earth could’ve happened to the neighboring kingdom that warrants such an important visit? Not to mention, a visit from two people he’s never heard a single thing about before today. 

The warm air of the castle’s interior gently nudges the prince from his silent questions, the comforting feeling of red carpet on his feet instantly causing him to relax into the setting. He opens his mouth to ask Philza about what’s going on before the older avian beats him to his voice. 

“Wil, mind grabbing Tommy some proper clothes and telling Techno to meet us in the dining room? We have guests with news concerning the Hermit Kingdom.” 

_Wait, Wil isn’t even here-_

“Will do,” the voice of his older brother responds, effectively causing the youngest prince to jump a foot off of the ground. The iron grip of his brother clasps itself around Tommy’s arm, beginning to drag him off before he’s able to protest against the movement. 

“What the fuck, Wilbur! Wait, that’s not fair,” the youngest whines as Wilbur’s quick strides down the hall appear to increase in pace. He can hear Philza faintly excusing the prince’s behavior toward the newcomers, George appearing to take his behavior lightly, though Dream still appears rather unimpressed by the whole situation. “I have to kick that green son of a bitch’s ass!” 

Tommy’s protests go unheard as the siblings traverse through the intricate hallways of the castle, the avian's arms crossing stubbornly as he keeps up with the taller. A huff of annoyance escapes his lips when his chestnut-haired older brother practically kicks the youngest prince’s door open, iron grip finally leaving the drenched hybrid as they enter the room. 

The blonde immediately rubs at the sore marking on his arm, 21-foot golden wings spreading completely before he shakes each water droplet still caked on his feathers onto the ground. He steals a glance around his spacious room; he can confidentially claim that he has the biggest bedroom in all of the castle. He has a massive balcony he selfishly keeps to himself, a stained-glass window with a picture of the sky filtering dimming light into his room. 

Tommy’s flown around his room more than a few times, the tall ceilings enabling him to get high enough that he can let himself fall for a few moments before catching himself yet again. 

“What the fuck were you thinking, Tommy?” Wilbur finally hisses, eyebrows knitting together as he gestures angrily toward the hallway. “Approaching a royal stagecoach dressed in _that_.” 

Oh, right, his comfort clothes. 

The avian growls lowly over him being scolded for wearing something he seeks comfort in. “I didn’t know it’d be filled with a bunch of impatient assholes! I was expecting Grian and Xisuma!” 

“You’re not even wearing shoes and you’re drenched to the core,” Wilbur groans, pressing a black-gloved hand to his face. “You’re not living on the streets anymore, Tommy. You can wear actual clothing and not these rags.” 

“I was flying in the rain,” he responds defensively, shooting a death glare toward the other. “I’m not about to fuckin’ ruin one of Phil’s coats having fun.” 

“They’re your clothes, not Phil’s,” Wilbur sternly reminds for the hundredth time that month, nearly bolting toward the younger’s wardrobe. He ignores the loud protests now spewing from his brother’s mouth, rolling his eyes when the younger begins to compare his wardrobe to one of a ‘stuck-up rich boys’ as though that isn’t exactly what Tommy is. 

It merely takes a few minutes of rummaging through the disorganized drawers for him to find the pieces of clothing he’s searching for, a pair of black pants as well as a collared shirt thrown his brother’s way. His hand delicately unhooks a red coat with gold trims from a hanger, taking time to admire the outfit’s craftsmanship before strolling back toward his younger brother and setting it gently on his bed. 

Tommy flops dramatically into the forgiving sheets on his bed, careful to ensure that he doesn’t leak a single bead of water onto the expensive coat. He doesn’t mind the fact that he just put a soaked t-shirt on top of the bed he’d be sleeping in, too busy offering pleading eyes toward Wilbur. 

“God, no, please, Wil! Don’t make me wear that Godforsaken thing.” 

“You heard Phil. We’re having a meeting and he wants you dressed properly.” 

“But it’s so uncomfortable,” Tommy mutters under his breath. He carefully studies the thoughtful expression that briefly washes over Wilbur’s face, able to recognize a scheme being formed in that lunatic's mind.

“What if,” the older starts, “I help you preen your feathers later if you can wear this for the rest of the night?” 

The offer instantly catches Tommy’s attention, the teenager hesitating as he sincerely debates Wilbur’s words. To be honest, it’s tempting to agree to the terms before they’re revoked and he’s left being forced to wear the outfit without any benefits. 

It’s not uncommon to see an avian asking for others to help with preening their feathers, some people’s wings being too large for the bird hybrid to reach by themselves. Preening is vital when the idea of flying comes to the young prince’s mind; if he wants to keep flying without incidents, he needs to keep his feathers straight and clean. Philza used to help him out when his wings began to grow a bit too large for Tommy to handle, though lately the king’s been too busy to give any of his sons a sliver of attention. 

Not that the blonde can blame their father, though. The man’s running a goddamn kingdom. 

Tommy briefly shoots a frustrated stare toward Wilbur’s cheek, not daring to look into the triumphant gaze belonging to the other. “Fine,” he mumbles out, voice thick with defeat, “But you’re a bitch.” 

Without another word, the avian carefully begins to replace his soaked outfit with dry articles of clothing. He’s cautious not to tear the collared shirt as he fits his wings through the slits in the back of the shirt, maneuvering the massive limbs with practiced movements in order to not ruffle his feathers nor destroy yet another shirt. He handles the expensive coat with even more care, not minding the warm touch of Wilbur grasping at his wings moments after he completely puts on the outfit. 

A satisfied hum escapes Tommy’s throat as his older brother begins fixing each twisted or knotted feather he features on his wings. The gentle press of gloves fingers on the delicate limbs has the avian slumping in relief, leaning gratefully into the touch. Well fuck him; how can he be pissed at Wilbur when his older brother’s happily assisting with combing over each imperfection on his wing? 

“There we go,” the brunette announces after a few minutes of combing, brushing at the slightly-dampened wings one last time to show his satisfaction with his work. The feathers on the insides of his sibling’s wings desperately need attention, but at least his brother looks presentable enough to the newcomers. 

“Thanks, Wilby.” 

“Of course, Toms. Now, all we need is to find-” 

The gentle knock of knuckles rapping against the wooden door interrupts the older’s words, both siblings turning toward the door. 

“Come in,” Tommy calls, practically singing his words over how happy he is to have had some of his feathers straightened out. He’ll never admit how someone preening his feathers almost always has him melting in their grasp, but it isn’t difficult to tell when someone’s helped with organizing the messy patterns of his wings. Each unknotting of a feather is almost as though someone’s popping an aching joint back into place; it fills with newfound energy and youthfulness. 

“Tommy, have you seen Wil-?” the question dies on the eldest prince’s tongue as his blood-red gaze shifts upward to meet the figures of a bouncing Tommy and a thoughtful-look Wilbur. “Er, never mind. Seems I was the only one not invited to the party,” Techno comments, the piglin hybrid’s pink ear flicking in disbelief at the sight in front of him. Huh, that’s...weird. He’s used to stumbling upon the two tearing at each other’s throats whenever they’re left alone in the same room. 

The boar mask that typically hides the eldest’s face remains fastened in his left hand, his entire body leaning against the doorway as he offers an emotionless expression toward the pair. Wisps of pink hair that the golden crown sitting on top of his head couldn’t hold back hover cautiously over his eyes. “Alright, something’s up,” he deadpans, “What’s going on?” 

“Glad you could join us. Phil wants us all in the dining room; something about news from the Hermit Kingdom.” 

Techno cranes his neck slightly at the mention of their allying kingdom. “Ah, I see. Is Xisuma coming with reports?” 

Tommy shakes his head slowly, “No, some dickheads named Dream and George showed up.” 

The pinkette pauses at the mention of the pair's name, his gaze flicking toward the ceiling before he focuses back on his siblings. A beat of silence floods the massive room before the eldest of the group fixates the boar skull back onto his face with a soft snort. “Well, are we just going to stand here and look at each other, or are we going to meet with Phil?” 

Tommy doesn’t give Wilbur a chance to stand, whisking himself out the door in seconds. A victorious yell of ‘hell yeah’ breaks free from his throat as he darts past the piglin hybrid. 

“Wait! You’ll fuck up your feathers and tangle them again if you run like that!” 

The brunette visibly deflates as his warning goes unheeded, herding both himself and his older brother into the hall before slowly following in the youngest’s footsteps. 

Techno’s monotone voice drops slightly as he offers an amused glance toward Wilbur. “He does know the meeting won’t start until we’re there as well, right?”

“You know, I think that Tommy might need a book to help him appear taller at the dining table,” Wilbur hums, smirking when he catches sight of mischief brewing behind the typically emotionless gaze of his older brother.

“I like how you think.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy does my hand hurt from writing this chapter out. I usually write a massive rough draft for each chapter before retyping the entire thing into it's final state so it takes a crap ton of work, but I'm glad to say that I finished this chapter with 3 days till my chapter deadline!
> 
> I sincerely hope you all enjoyed Chapter 2 and have a lovely day!

Thick tension sways curiously about the dining room, the invisible fog seeming to grow thicker as the sound of a head hitting itself against the dark oak table echoes throughout the room once again. The sound trickles like rain into the ears of those sitting, reverberating mockingly against the elegant murals decorating the smooth walls. 

While the king sitting upon his decorated chair pays no mind to the actions of his youngest son, Dream finds himself struggling to keep himself from tearing tufts of hair from his head. His fingerless-gloved hands clench tightly into each other in order to provide a sense of distraction; the table's too quiet for his liking. 

Surely Philza’s more eager to hear about what’s gone down in their neighboring kingdom, right? 

He’s heard enchanting tales of the famed duo; the Antarctic Empire and the Hermit Kingdom. The allying kingdoms have never lost a war when fighting by each other’s side, offering a perfectly balanced strategy to ensure victory. One provides an army with the strength of three, while the other supplies copious amounts of weapons and food to appease said army. 

It’s a shame that the kingdoms prefer to play a defensive role instead of an offensive one; the duo has never threatened others with the intent to claim more land and claw their way closer to power. Instead, they appear to play a twisted game of cat and mouse, one that the mouse miraculously never loses. 

To be fair, it isn’t difficult to lose when the Blood God himself is the king’s own son. When Dream first began to study the Antarctic Empire, he had expected the kingdom to continue to expand with their never-ending win streak, thorough surprise rioting through his veins at the peaceful nature surrounding the empire. He had searched for days on end for documentation of the royal family inciting unnecessary violence, though each attempt had ended in failure. 

Perhaps their tactics will become more violent when Techno takes his father’s place as king. 

If it isn’t conquered before the king’s death, that is. 

The masked blonde’s silent concentration on the history of the kingdom is broken by the new sound of a leather shoe smacking against the table's wooden legs. He doesn’t need to look up from the empty plate in front of him to know it came from the gremlin child that can’t seem to sit still. God, what the warrior wouldn’t give to silence the avian for good. 

“Dream, we’re guests,” George’s accented voice murmurs from the man's right, his own gaze fixated on the intricate swirls carving into the dining table to distract himself from the quietness of the room. He can almost feel his companion rioting silently beside him, a distasteful look is briefly given to the blonde warrior in the hopes that it’ll bring the man back to earth. 

The expression only appears to fuel those dangerous waves of impatience, anger radiating off the blonde as though he’s about to burst into dozens of minuscule pieces on the carpeted flooring. 

The decorated king carefully clears his throat, forcing George to refocus his attention from his companion onto the curious gaze of King Philza. His dark grey wings drape gracefully behind him, a golden crown decorated with emerald jewels lay snuggly on top of his mess of blonde hair. A royal cape the color of jade lays slightly slanted on one shoulder, both muscles standing strong despite the weight of his massive wings. Speaking of which, the limbs flex instinctively as he leans to pick up a goblet made of gold, swaying the empty object absent-mindedly within his gentle grasp. 

He appears to be in a state of relaxation, as though the word ‘urgent’ has no other meaning than ‘casual’. 

“Anything I can get you while we wait for the rest of the boys to arrive? Any specific taste in wine?” 

“Phil, can I-?” 

The king offers his youngest a fond shake of his head, finding his eyes beginning to roll at the implied question. “No, Tommy. It’s a grown-up drink.” 

Said teenager slumps dejectedly into his chair, wings spreading slightly to keep themselves from being squished. His pale arms cross as he begins to mutter under his breath, clearly upset over the word choice. “I don’t need to be spoken to like a fuckin’ child.” 

“I think the way he’s talking fits your maturity level just fine.” 

The comment escapes Dream’s lips before he can stop himself, his words acting as a glass lid shattering on tile flooring. 

The way Philza instantly stops swaying his cup is deafening to George’s ears, briefly causing him to break his organized demeanor and risk a nervous glance the ruler’s way. He can’t take his eyes off the way the king appears frozen in time, not even attempting to shoot a warning glance toward the warrior for his poor behavior. The messenger wants a safe guarantee that they’ll be allowed to leave the castle without some sort of security issue, even if the pair are well aware that Dream can easily take down any surrounding guards. 

But this isn’t just another kingdom they’re attempting to taunt with the threat of destruction. 

No, this is the family of the Blood God himself, someone whose title is filled to the brim with horrific stories relating to his constant crave for aggression and blood. His companion fighting against arguably the most feared man in all the kingdoms isn’t something he’d like to see anytime soon. 

“A small bottle of wine should be fine,” the brunette pipes up, traces of anxiety cracking into his voice’s calm façade. His shoulders relax slightly as the king offers him a surprisingly friendly smile. 

“I couldn’t agree more with you, mate.” 

Words that protest against the sheer informality being displayed die on his tongue, replaced by a puzzled expression. Of all people currently in the room, he had assumed that the king would at least attempt to keep a sliver of respect within the room. Perhaps the respect for formality had disappeared the second Dream and Tommy began silently threatening each other from across the table. 

Silence hesitantly enters the stale air before it’s pushed to the side by careful steps entering the room. A fairly young maid dressed in a white gown approaches each golden goblet, a red bottle filled with liquid fastened tightly in her grasp. She works efficiently as she makes her way around the table, skipping over the youngest prince’s goblet before pouring two glasses for the currently absent princes. 

Tommy finds a grin spoiling his scowl that had been aimed toward Dream as a different maid slowly approaches the youngest prince’s goblet, behaving as though the wrong move could cause the youngest prince to attack her. 

The behavior sparks the interest of both the masked warrior and the composed messenger. The pair share a glance before nodding toward one another; the kid has some sort of anger issue that the castle staff has to put up with. Either that or he has some serious PTSD. 

The maid only takes a few seconds to fill the youngest’s cup with apple cider before bowing and leaving the table. She pauses briefly at the door, turning around to momentarily address the room. “If you need anything, your majesty, please don’t hesitate to call for me.” 

“Of course, Evelyn.” 

And with that, she disappears back into the halls of the castle. 

Beats of silence scream in protest when the loud sipping of a cup shoos at them yet again, Tommy having scooped his goblet up as soon as possible and beginning to savor the drink. It ignites with flavor in his mouth, the addicting taste dancing on his tongue. His overly satisfied gaze lands on Dream’s mask, his sipping growing louder when his behavior isn’t acknowledged by the warrior. 

His eyebrows furrow slightly when he realizes the warrior is far more interested in studying the goblet of wine that had just been poured for him as though he’d seen them place a frog within it. 

“What, dickhead? Not high-quality enough for you?” 

A fit of coughing ripples through the air as Philza chokes on his sip of wine, his grey wings shaking slightly behind him as he fails to hide a soft laugh. “Dream, was it?” 

“Yes.” 

“It isn’t poisoned if that’s what you’re concerned about,” the king reassures with a small smile. His face appears tinted with red from his coughing fit, his throat hoarse slightly with discomfort. He openly raises his goblet to his lips, taking a few more sips in the hope that it’ll calm the warrior’s nerves. “We’re eager to hear about the Hermit Kingdom; killing their newest messengers would only harm our close relations with them.” 

“With all due respect, your highness,” Dream begins; Tommy’s wings tense slightly at the sheer amount of venom filling the masked man’s voice. “I’m not some messenger sent by King Xisuma. I’m merely a warrior that was hired to protect the king’s little messenger boy.” 

Childish delight floods the masked man’s mind as his companion’s head snaps toward him, the brunette’s gaze flashing with humility and fury. Good, the shorter had been remaining a bit too composed during this exchange. 

George mindlessly gives into the bait, face flushing with embarrassment. “I’m not the king’s little messenger boy,” he argues, British accent growing thicker as his temper rises. “I told Schlatt that I didn’t need anyone to guard me-” 

“Schlatt?” 

The brunette’s angry gesture towards Dream freezes in place, recognition writing itself over his once angered expression. He doesn’t have to turn to know whose monotone voice is asking about the new name; the burning pair of red eyes staring straight into his soul are telling enough. 

“Pog timing, Techno!” Tommy chirps from his seat, grinning widely at the amused snort he receives from his oldest brother. His gaze briefly washes over his two siblings, mouth wrenching open to question over the fact that a book finds itself strangled in Wilbur’s gloved grasp. Though, his jaw quickly snaps shut at the serious expression being displayed on his scholarly brother’s face. He silently notes how the dickhead had changed into new clothing; a new black-silk frock coat drapes elegantly around his shoulders; the tail of it extends to the back of his knees, black pants hiding the rest of his long legs. 

“Wil, Techno,” Philza greets with a calming smile. His wings twitch hesitantly in the urge to quite literally brush the tension currently suffocating the atmosphere. “Please boys, take a seat.” 

The two princes don’t hesitate to sit in their respective places, Wilbur still clutching the thick book in leather binding within his grasp. The Blood God’s emotionless eyes never leave George’s, the two stuck in a silent battle for who’s emotionless façade would break first. 

God did the messenger want to tear his gaze away from those terrifying blood-shot eyes peeking from behind the skull of a wild boar. Thoughts of the scars the prince must feature behind the mask flash throughout his mind; surely being in countless battles has taken a toll on the Blood God’s skin. 

_Unless he’s never even been struck during a battle._

George slams the thought out of his head, knowing that the thought will send fear ricocheting through his veins. 

“Now that everyone’s accounted for, we should start about this ‘urgent news’ you both were going on about earlier,” Philza suggests politely, taking another sip of wine before craning his neck closer to the table in a display of his interest. 

“O-Of course.” 

George can feel each gaze belonging to royalty study him carefully, as though he’s become some type of exotic animal. It makes him appear insignificant, suddenly feeling much smaller than he should with the news in his possession. He holds the power over these royals and this conversation, goddamnit. The king and three princes are merely people who eagerly want information on the Hermit Kingdom. 

The messenger’s head dips slightly to the side as he takes a deep breath, shoulders straightening properly. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that King Xisuma’s letters to you have been more sparse than usual.” 

“I have. I just assumed that his new messenger was scuffed,” the king responds honestly. “No offense to you, of course.” 

George sucks a breath, though a thin curve of a smile forces itself onto his face. “None taken,” he nods, a white-gloved hand raising slightly to keep Dream from jumping to his defense. “The Hermit Kingdom has indeed enlisted new messengers, but I believe that information should be the least of your concerns.” 

Techno can’t help but flick his piglin ears in annoyance; could this ominous conversation go any slower? He knows Wilbur can enjoy the suspenseful tension, but even the younger prince appears as though he’s growing impatient. His left hand’s fingers tap absentmindedly on the table, right hand picking up the goblet and swaying it around much like his father had been doing earlier. “Listen, I appreciate the suspense, but some of us don’t have all day.” 

Ah, might as well just rip the band aid off. 

“The Hermit Kingdom was captured and overthrown by King Jay Schlatt on September 21st,” George announces in an emotionless voice, rising from his seat as he breaks the news. Despite the sheer power rushing into his mind as he looms over the sitting royalty and his companion beside him, he visibly flinches when the sound of Tommy’s goblet hitting the ground rings throughout the stale air. “King Xisuma and his heir, Prince Grian, were publicly dethroned before being executed the following day on the 22nd of September.” 

“Liar.” 

“Excuse me?” the messenger questions, his dark brown gaze matching the hollow stare of Wilbur. 

“You’re lying out your ass,” Wilbur spits through clenched teeth, shoving his chair backward as he stands across George. The messenger is sure that if there wasn’t a table separating them, the prince would’ve grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. “That’s impossible; it’s fucking December and we’ve received letters since the date of September 22nd.” 

Dream’s mask shifts upwards slightly to reveal his amused smirk over the doubt shining in those storming eyes. His hand waves dismissively at the second eldest son of the Antarctic Empire, “Oh, come on now, why would we feel the need to lie over such a thing? The proofs right in front of you,” a genuine laugh escapes from the confines of his lungs, “We arrived in their own personal stagecoach! 

“Tell me, Phil. Has anyone other than the royal family ever visited here in their stagecoach?” 

“Watch yourself, Dream,” Techno growls, shoulders tensing as he locks eyes with the green pair suddenly igniting with excitement. He carefully studies the man, hand settling on the sheathed sword attached to his belt, a silent threat that he will turn violent if the other so much as dares to take the wrong step. Resorting the violence is much more comforting than attempting to wrap his mind over the devastating news of the royal family’s passing. 

“I-” 

Philza can feel the quiver in his voice, shock ruffling through his wings at the news of the overtaking of their neighboring kingdom. How could he have not noticed the signs? The refusal to visit the castle when he was invited, the change of the greeting ‘my dearest friend’ to addressing him as ‘old friend’. He’d just assumed that Grian had teased him about being old and therefore convinced him to maintain a new address for the close king. 

How naïve of him to not even bat an eyelash toward the subtle behavior change. 

“Fuck,” Wilbur curses, able to identify the dreadful droop in his father’s wings. His eyes narrow as he thrusts a finger in George’s direction, a gestured demand for more information to be given. “Why the hell weren’t we notified? Surely, we should’ve been notified by someone in the castle or by Schlatt himself.” 

“ _King_ Schlatt prefers to keep his business under wraps and out of other people’s,” the shorter brunette defensively explains as he forces himself to remain unphased by the nasty glares Techno occasionally shoots his way. To tell the truth, he’s shocked and more nervous over the fact that Tommy hasn’t uttered a single word, a glance the youngest’s way quickly giving him an explanation. 

Silent tears rush down the youngest prince’s pale face, glistening in the candlelight of the chandelier. A storm of conflicting emotion resides within those once fierce eyes, though one emotion quickly defines itself within the storm. 

Helplessness. 

The teenager must’ve caught him staring because the avian prince is out of his chair in an instant, gold wings flaring out with sudden violent anger coursing through his veins. He blinks away steaming tears as quickly as possible, replacing each painful thought with pure aggression toward the warrior and messenger sent by the murderer of his best friend. How dare these men walk into his own home and mock him before breaking the news that Xisuma and Grian had passed? 

Not only had they passed away, but publicly humiliated and executed for curious eyes to see. 

“This is all your fault!” Tommy can’t help the infuriating screech that slips from his lips, a powerful flap of his wings flinging himself into the air. He has no time to silently thank the high ceilings of the room, too busy pinpointing his target. He doesn’t even register his older brother’s yelp when his wings flapping cause the table to topple and groan, Dream and George leaping backward before the heavy piece of furniture can crash on top of them. 

Adrenaline and anger overtake his mind as he suddenly dives for the stunned messenger, a blur of grey as well as the clash of swords hitting each other filling his senses. The feeling of natural heat on his skin yanks him from his fury, quickly recognizing the cradling of wings around his tall frame as though to protect him from the yell of frustration Dream emits from behind him. 

Tears flood yet again within his furious gaze, thrashing against Philza’s warm embrace as he wails in pain over the thought of Grian’s head falling into a basket right beside Xisuma’s. His eyelids briefly unclench, the teenager able to make out the form of Techno with a sword fastened within his grasp, easily using it to push Dream and the masked man’s sword away from the king using himself to protect Tommy. 

Time almost slows as George begins to scramble toward the archway leading into the hallway, a dagger suddenly glinting in Wilbur’s grasp quickly discouraging the man from attempting to run and causing him to clumsily stumble onto the ground in panic. Dream’s fight with Techno appears to grow closer to George, the action quickly deterring Wilbur from growing any closer to the unprepared messenger. 

“That’s enough!” Philza yells, placing a hand on Tommy’s shoulder so he can properly extend his wings without the worry about the kid dashing George. He knows how much of a blinding rage the teenager can fall into and he’d much rather avoid that. Each grey feather ruffles out in fury over the clusterfuck that’s paused in place, anger rolling off of the ruler in waves. He doesn’t calm in the slightest when Dream and Techno slightly lower their weapons, the king’s blue eyes turning calculating as he focuses on the two people, whom he now considers intruders, residing inside his home. Two intruders who dared to fight against his family. 

“The both of you, out,” Philza demands, not minding how the avian prince he’s holding back feeds off the fury engulfing his father. “Now.” 

George lunges to his feet at the loud boom in Philza’s voice, properly spooked as his seething companion slowly begins to walk after him toward the exit of the dining room. The brunette messenger is whisked into the hallway without an ounce of hesitation, though Dream lingers within the dining hall to survey the state the royal family left the room in. A weak attempt to hide the gleeful satisfaction in his eyes is made as he begins to address the family, “Schlatt will be in touch with you soon, Phil. He won’t stop till he has every kingdom under his rule.” 

Dream’s eyes narrow at the thrashing teenager in the king’s grip, emitting a soft laugh over the prince’s attempt to get to him and tear him to shreds. “And he’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants.” 

“Get out!” Philza furiously yells, taking a threatening step toward the gleeful warrior. “I will not have my family threatened in my goddamn kingdom.” 

A shrug and a mocking wave is the only response the king receives before Dream slinks into the hallway with excitement lacing each step. Guards quickly file behind him to ensure that both he and the messenger take their proper leave. 

Silence yet again finds a home within the ruined dining room, dishes and cups once filled with wine decorating the carpeted flooring. A few drops of wine splatters on the wall, though it's only Wilbur who silently frets over the condition of the ruined décor. 

The organized prince is the first to move, carefully approaching the two avians and raising his hands innocently to the sky before gently placing them on his father’s shoulder. 

Philza doesn’t relax into the comforting gesture like the second heir had hoped he would, a tight frown appearing on the brunette’s face. “Phil?” 

Said ruler despises the uncertainty lacing his son’s voice as he addresses his father by name. “I’m fucking fine,” he spits out furiously, swiftly reeling in his tone when Wilbur appears to grow more upset. “I just got riled up by the bastard.” 

“I can’t blame you,” Techno chimes in from beside the overturned table, a hand moving to fix the golden crown sitting on top of his braided hair. “His mask's extremely punch-able.” 

The atmosphere turns slightly awkward, the Blood God unsure why until he meets the gaze of his youngest brother. His eyes soften slightly at the tears threatening to spill from the young avian’s eyes as he swallows back a sob. 

Tommy pulls away slightly from Philza, still able to feel the king’s grip on his shoulder despite the man letting him go. His voice lowers to a hushed murmur, fearful that if he speaks too loud that the sobs he’s attempting to bury within his throat will erupt. “They’re really gone, aren’t they?” 

Philza feels as though his world’s caving in on itself. “Hey,” he begins carefully, attempting to remove any trace of fury in his voice as possible. If he further demonstrates his frustration and anguish over the situation, he knows Tommy will feed off it. “It’s okay, we’ll get this whole mess sorted out,” he promises with a forced smile. The skin under his eyes crinkles slightly to make the gesture appear less forced toward the blurry-eyed teenager. 

The movement appears to do the trick for the youngest prince, his golden wings slumping in defeat as he relaxes slightly from exhaustion. 

“Techno, go alert the guards to double the staff; I’m not letting them have a single chance to come back tonight. No visitors no matter what; this place is on lock-down until I get more information on this Schlatt guy.” 

The Blood God can’t help but stiffen at the request, eyes narrowing in silent frustration. “There’s no way I’m leaving you three alone when a lunatic might still be on the castle’s grounds.” 

Philza finds hints of comfort over the protectiveness seeping into his eldest son’s voice, a thankful glance sent the other’s way. “We’ll be fine, Techno. Don’t forget who taught you how to fight in the first place.” 

“Yeah, but I’m not the one who’s thirty-two,” the piglin hybrid points out, sleeved arms crossing stubbornly. “I could hear your joints cracking just from the action of you lifting your wings.” 

“Just go do it, Tech,” Wilbur groans, his shoulders sagging as though he’d been holding the weight of the moon on them. “We’ll be fine if we stay as a group of three.” 

“There’s no way in hell I’m letting either of you out of my sight,” Philza agrees, “But I swear to God, Techno. If you don’t meet us back in Tommy’s room in twenty, I’m tearing this castle apart looking for you.” 

“I’ll only take ten,” Techno promises with a smirk, hoping that it’d lighten the grim atmosphere currently engulfing his family. Voices swirl about his head, each word chanting over how he should hunt after Dream and give the man a piece of his mind, though he knows it’d end with Philza being the one to kick his ass over the moronic decision. Without another word, he strides out of the dining room to alert the guards, forcing the worry from his system with each confident step away from those he’d risk his life for. 

“God, are we fucked,” Wilbur mutters under his breath, stressfully dragging a hand through his fluffy hair in a weak attempt to calm himself down. 

A heaved sigh drags itself from Philza’s throat, his wings curling into a more comfortable state from their previously tense one. “Our relations with other kingdoms are a little scuffed right now, but we’re just going to have to put our guard up for a while.” 

“They can’t just come into our home and start threatening us and shit,” Tommy growls softly, chest puffing out in an attempt to make it seem as though he isn’t seconds from breaking down in grief and agony. 

“We’ll deal with them in time,” the king soothes, looking fondly over his two sons. He knows that his eldest can take care of himself, but what if Wilbur or Tommy got caught up in the situation? A hiss nearly escapes him at the recollection of Dream staring the youngest prince down as he announced that Schlatt would stop at nothing to get what he wants. 

The family’s tight relationship is going to be a bitch to manage. 

“Come on, Toms, let’s get you tucked in for the night.” 

Tommy doesn’t respond to his older brother’s exhausted voice, too busy staring off angrily toward where Dream and George had left the ruined dining room. The halls look almost as if they’ve been tainted by the poison of threats, that mocking smile painted on the warrior’s clay mask burning brightly within his mind. 

“Tommy?” 

“Uh, yeah. Sounds good,” the teenager responds hollowly, an audible swallow following his words. He makes a simple gesture for his sibling to lead the way, an overwhelming sense of safety crashing against the waves of silent anguish when Philza follows behind the two princes. The king straightens his posture and tenses as they begin to roam amongst the halls, caution and preparation to spring into action reflecting in his posture. 

He can practically feel the air around Wilbur tense whenever they pass by an archway or door, his taller brother always slowing his pace to steal a glance around before moving on. Tommy finds himself silently thanking the other for the extra steps being taken to ensure everyone’s safety. It gives not only time for the youngest prince to calm his nerves, but for Philza to calm his own as well. 

The princes have never before witnessed their father shout within the castle as he had in the dining room. Sure, it’s not uncommon to find Philza scolding one of them with raised voices, but the king had been on the borderline of screaming when dismissing Dream. He’d stared at the warrior as though he were a shriveled mushroom someone had snuck onto his plate during dinner. Having been in close range of his father, Tommy had felt the flash of emotions that grappled with the older avian: disgust, disappointment, sorrow, raw anger. 

The red coat on his back begins to itch tiredly at his wings, causing the young prince to wince. The long limbs feel as though they’ve been tucked away for ages, silently pleading to allow him to make a dash for the nearest window and go for a flight. He could take to the sky and fly until he was physically exhausted; he doubted Philza would be able to catch up with him if the youngest prince pushed himself to fly as fast as possible. 

His mind calmly sways him from the idea, half of him demanding that he remains within the safe embrace of his family. Who knows what this ‘Schlatt’ guy’s steps to domination are? If he could defeat King Xisuma, his army must be either extremely strong or have had the element of surprise on his side. 

But why didn’t the new king try and take the Antarctic Empire while they were uninformed of what was going on in their neighboring kingdom? 

Tommy’s mind longs silently for the answer, unsuccessfully attempting to stop morbid curiosity from settling within his bones. Curiosity is known to lead to someone’s downfall; it’s a warning he’s heard from Wilbur thousands of times. 

Speaking of the poetic prince, he nearly runs into his taller brother when those hesitant footsteps slam to a halt. He glances up, eyebrows raising in a questioning expression before the realization that they’re at his room’s door hits him. He gingerly extends a hand and pushes the wooden door open, grasping at a box of matches he’s always kept on the table to the door’s left, taking his time to light each candle within the massive room. 

He takes time to keenly analyze his surroundings, extending his 21 ft wingspan as he walks about the area. The massive glass-stained window that leads to a balcony glitters tauntingly as he takes each hesitant stride, dim moonlight filtering through the warped glass and providing additional light to the atmosphere. 

Exhaustion tugs silently at his wings, his blue eyes fixating themselves on the cozy blankets and pillows on his bed. 

“You can head to bed, mate,” Philza begins as he steps to his youngest’s side and ruffles his blonde hair. He frowns when the typical protest of the movement isn’t given, the prince merely collapsing onto his sheets at the reassurance that he can safely fall asleep with almost all of his family around him. “Are you feeling alright? Can Wil or I order you something?” 

“You can fuck off is what you can do,” Tommy tiredly mutters into his bedsheets, though his words lack any hints of malice. 

The clear message of ‘fuck off’ brings a small smile to Philza’s lips; a sad one, but a smile nonetheless. “Sleep well, Tommy. Wil and I are just going to discuss a few things before Techno gets here.” 

“Mmm,” the youngest yawns as the fog of sleep begins to tug at his eyelids. A spark of gratefulness ignites within him as Philza begins to hum to himself as he finds himself and his older brother chairs, a voice in his mind identifying the song as ‘Mellohi’. With the comforting hum hanging within the room, he slowly sinks into the temptation of dreams. 

He’s safe. 

Wilbur’s safe. 

Techno’s safe. 

Phil’s safe. 

The repetition of those words is all he needs to finally submit to the looming darkness flooding his consciousness. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philza decides that it's time to introduce new rules to protect the family; rules that Tommy doesn't like in the slightest.

“Tommy’s not going to like it.” 

“It’s the best way to keep him protected, Wil. If they were able to catch Grian, they either have an avian of their own or one hell of a hunter.” 

“One hell of a hunter if that Dream guy showed anything. But it doesn’t matter; he isn’t going to listen, Phil. You of all people should know that.” 

“I can’t have Tommy wondering about when Schlatt’s made his intentions clear. He executed Xisuma not even a day after he took over the fuckin’ kingdom; he doesn’t seem to see an issue with causing someone else’s death.” 

Tommy stirs slightly at the urgency present in Philza’s voice, his mind rasping angrily that he should make attempts to wake up. Despite having just awoken from what had to be the most mediocre sleep of his life, his brain is still able to tell when an important discussion is going on. Not to mention Techno’s frustrated huff speaks volumes on whatever topic is being talked about. 

“You know he prioritizes his freedom over everything else, right?” 

Oo, someone’s pissed the piglin hybrid off. There’s a low rumble deep within that monotone voice, hints of protectiveness seeping into each pronounced syllable that his foggy mind can just barely piece together. 

“Techno, this isn’t a debate,” Philza’s exhausted sigh swirls around the room, “I was hoping to get you guys to at least help him listen to me. We can’t be by his side twenty-four hours a day and as soon as we turn our backs, he’ll be seeking comfort in the sky.” 

“He’ll probably attempt to confront Schlatt over Grian’s death as well,” Wilbur comments as his leather shoes tap absentmindedly at the room’s wooden flooring. A gloved finger pushes gently at his lips as he enables himself to ponder each hypothetical. 

Tommy’s breath hitches at the abrupt reminder of the Hermit prince’s death, jolting up from his bed as memories of the previous night flood his mind. He barely registers the curse uttered in unison by his family members before he’s lunging out of his bed in a burst of panic, golden wings puffing up to instinctively make himself look bigger. Twinges of frustration over not having been included in whatever conversation had been going on are brushed away without a second thought; the idea of his family even mentioning his dead friend is enough to send him spiraling down the realization that this is his new reality. 

A reality that he hadn’t known about until about eight hours ago judging by the dulled sunlight shining into his room. 

“Nice going, Wil,” Techno sarcastically mutters; the soft clink of a teacup draws Tommy’s wide eyes to a white cup that his eldest brother is lifting to his lips in order to take a few sips. The boar skull that had comfortably concealed his face last night is currently gone, enabling the family to see how his nose slightly crinkles in disgust over the tea’s flavoring. 

Tommy’s mind silently notes how his brother has always despised tea; he’s expressed much more interest in the bitter taste of coffee with a pinch of sugar. 

“Oh, fuck off; he was bound to wake up sooner or later,” Wilbur hisses toward the eldest prince, arms crossing to display his clear discontent over his brother’s comment. 

“Would’ve preferred it to have happened after we made our final decision?” 

“ _Our_?” Techno inquires, sounding rather defensive despite the lack of emotion in his facial features. “You said it yourself, your mind was already set the moment you brought the topic up. I’d rather not have an avian rioting through the castle that refuses to speak to me for the rest of his life.” 

Wilbur’s left eyebrow lifts curiously at the hybrid’s point, “In that case, this is entirely my idea.” 

“Oh shush, Wil,” Philza gently frowns, wing cautiously shooing at the brunette prince. He shoots a quick glance toward Tommy, noticing how he hadn’t moved an inch from the spot he had landed when he’d lunged out of bed and holds a slightly dazed yet calming expression. He can practically see the steam rising from those blonde curls as the youngest’s brain attempts to catch himself up on everything going on. 

The family’s come to realize that none of them are morning people; Tommy especially needs a few minutes to get himself functioning as normal. 

“Good morning, did you sleep well?” 

“Yeah,” the young blonde mumbles, a hand scrubbing at his eyes before he finally begins to take in the scene before him. He can identify the slightly blurry figure as Philza, the king sitting comfortably within a velvet chair. As he focuses closely on the man’s expression, he holds his normally tranquil demeanor despite the heavy bags weighing under the older’s eyes. Techno and Wilbur tower unintentionally over their father’s chair, saddened pity sparking within the piglin hybrid’s gaze. 

Wait, pity? 

“Alright, what the fuck happened?” Tommy demands as he suppresses a yawn. He scowls at the distinct snicker Wilbur’s aiming toward his messy fluff of blonde hair, the youngest not having had time to fix it from its ruined state. 

“Would you prefer a cup of tea before we talk?” 

The avian freezes in place at the offer, his bright blue eyes absorbing sparks of suspicion. He can’t recall a single time he’s been offered a cup of tea without a sorrowful announcement accompanying it. It was always as though Philza was telling him, ‘Brace yourself; this one’s going to be harsh’. He finds himself slowly nodding his head, regaining feeling in his muscles when Techno moves from his original stance to fetch his youngest brother a chair. 

The piglin hybrid positions the furniture directly in front of Philza’s, Tommy plopping down in the comfortable chair without having to be told twice. His wings fluff angrily in protest over him recklessly falling into the chair, though he pays little attention to the slightly uncomfortable position. 

Instead, he focuses on the sound of Philza humming as he approaches a golden cart with a display of tea and crackers sitting on top of it. His fingers delicately grasp at a white teacup and plate before a bag filled with herbs is set into it. A polished metal kettle is picked up methodically, hot water eagerly plunging into the cup with a content hiss of steam. 

While the water dances playfully with the combined herbs, the king mindlessly makes a plate of crackers and cheese; anything to help disguise the shameful haze crossing the oldest avian’s gaze. For him, it feels as though the tea takes seconds to be prepared, though, to Tommy, it appears as though it’s been hours since he was first offered the cup. 

Once satisfied over the state of the cup, Philza gently grasps at it and hands it off to his youngest son, forcing himself to relax into the scent of eucalyptus. A gentle glance is sent toward the stained-glass window, his grey wings flexing instinctively at the thought of relaxing in the warm rays of sunlight. He may as well enjoy the lovely morning details while it lasted; there isn’t a trace of doubt within his mind that shit will hit the fan as soon as the announcements leaves his mouth. 

He gracefully sweeps himself back into his seat before Tommy can take note of his hesitance, not minding how Wilbur appears to study his movements curiously. 

“You’re making me nervous, big man,” an awkward laugh escapes the avian’s lips in an attempt to help him swallow down the anxiety currently raking at his throat. He briefly sniffs the cup of tea that had been handed to him, taking a stiff sip before settling it back on his lap with a nervous huff. 

God, why was everything so damn quiet? 

The youngest prince nearly jumps out of his skin when the touch of something silk drapes itself over his shoulders and wings, Tommy immediately distinguishing it as Techno’s signature cape. Half of his mind leans gleefully into the warm article of clothing while the other half has him tensing in sudden realization. 

_Oh, I’m fucked. Something happened, something happened, something-_

“Deep breaths, mate,” Philza gently reminds as he gingerly sips at his own cup of tea. He stares emotionlessly into the brown liquid gazing back at him, having his own battle against rising anxiety. He silently notes the straightening of his youngest son’s shoulders; the teenager’s fight or flight mode is blatantly activating and the antsy bounce of his left leg only confirms the fact that his son wants to walk away from the conversation. 

God is that going to change. 

Tommy only ever attempts to avoid conversations if they’re deemed too serious for him. He’s more than happy to get himself involved in arguments, but something that warrants the usage of Techno’s cape as a calming mechanism only feeds into the idea that this is a conversation the youngest wants to dodge. 

The king waits patiently for the avian to inhale slowly before exhaling just as slow, able to identify dread lacing each breath of air. It’s only after a few more beats of silence that Philza finds it appropriate to continue with the first segment of the news. 

“George left a letter from Schlatt last night,” he informs in a comforting tone, studying the blonde’s movements carefully. The younger’s gaze immediately fixates on his own, one pair of eyes filled with nothing but genuine comfort while the other displays fury and grief. “It said how the Hermit Kingdom has officially been named to ‘Manberg’-” 

“He can’t fuckin’ do that,” Tommy protests as his golden wings sag into his chair. His fists grasp furiously at the red cape draped over him, mind clinging onto the fact that it feels as though his eldest brother’s giving him a hug. 

“He’s the king, that bastard can do whatever he wants,” Wilbur mutters under his breath, blatant distaste over the decision being demonstrated with every vowel. 

“It’s bs, I know; but Wil’s right. That isn’t the only news I wanted to discuss with you, though. With last night’s...cluster fuck, I’ve decided it’d be best to adjust the rules a little bit until the tension between our kingdoms settle.” 

The fury is instantly gone from Tommy’s chest, overwhelming anxiety confining him to his seat. 

“Tommy, mate, I-” 

Philza takes a moment to recompose himself, attempting to form the best way to explain this to the teenager. He pinches the bridge of his nose momentarily as a stress-filled sigh drags itself from his lungs. 

“Until we learn more about Schlatt, you’re forbidden from leaving the castle.” 

One beat of silence. 

Two. 

Three. 

Four- 

“What?” 

Philza stands still, staring at his wild card of a child while those ice-blue eyes pick him apart piece by piece. He sheds not even an ounce of response to the mix of shock and hatred beginning to brew within the other’s gaze. 

“What kind of sick joke is this? It’s not- it's not fuckin’ funny.” 

Techno mentally winces when the sound of his cape tearing filters through his piglin ears, the youngest prince having accidentally torn a hole due to his tight grip on the fabric. 

“It isn’t a joke, Toms,” Wilbur confirms with a hesitant expression. 

“You’re banned from going outside and will have two guards watching you at all times,” Philza adds, a finger stirring absently in his cup. In all honesty, the fear rewriting itself over Tommy’s face is enough to make him want to wrap his son in a loving embrace and whisper sweet apologies in the teenager’s ears. 

“I- it’s not a- 

“Techno, he’s goddamn lying, right? Just like he always does?” 

The Blood God swallows loudly in response, uncomfortable with the desperation clinging to his sibling’s voice. All comforting words have seemingly erased themselves from his mind, only able to hear the unhelp voices muttering ‘SadInnit’ and ‘That’s not fair, Dadza!’. “It’s for the best.” 

“No, no, no-” 

“I don’t have a choice. Schlatt’s-” Philza cuts himself off, a hard look conquering his blue gaze. “Schlatt’s ambitious and powerful; he wants to control the kingdom-” 

“So, hiding me away in the castle like I’m a five-year-old is the best option? Gluing me to your side is the best you could fuckin’ come up with?” 

Wilbur glances anxiously toward Philza, knowing that the words cut deep into their father. 

“I’m trying to help you. Schlatt’s dangerous-” 

“I can take care of myself!” the teenager snaps, voice rising out of sheer frustration. His mind roars for him to continue with this fury, all other traces of fear fading away from himself. The silent desperation to take at least any sort of control over the situation becomes apparent as he grows more furious. “I know when I’m beat and when to not pick a fight!” 

“Really? Because last night surely proved otherwise,” Wilbur mutters under his breath, growling when Philza whacks him yet again with his wing. 

“I’m doing this for everyone’s sake! It’s not debatable,” Philza declares tiredly in the hopes that it’ll cause the other to slightly calm down. 

“Like hell it’s not! You can’t just take my goddamn freedom and expect me to roll over like some sort of fuckin’ dog! Schlatt doesn’t have shit on me and I could easily take him!” 

“For God’s sake, Tommy! For all we know, he could be stronger than Techno!” 

“How the fuck would anyone know if you keep me locked away, you prick!” 

“Listen to me-” 

“No, you listen to me, old man-!” 

“TOMMY.” 

Said young prince freezes in place at his father’s yell, the king having stood up from his chair with a loud bang. 

“This isn’t a debate. Schlatt can and will kill you. What happens if he finds you while you’re in town? Or shoots you out of the sky? He killed Xisuma and Grian for fuck’s sake. Grian would’ve had all the time in the world to use his wings and get back to us, but he never made it! 

“What in the ever-living fuck makes you think you’ll be able to outrun him when Grian couldn’t!” 

Tommy quickly finds himself unable to respond, his teeth clenching too hard to enable him to verbally fight back. It’s his silence that Philza mistakes for the teenager’s understanding of the terrifying situation they’re currently in. 

“You’re banned from flying or going outside, Thomas. And that’s final.” 

Both Wilbur and Techno watch intently as their younger sibling furiously turns his head to the left, tears glossing in those fierce blue eyes. It unknowingly cracks both of their hearts to see the teenager in such a silent state of distress, both able to distinguish the feeling of helplessness crowning those golden locks of hair. 

Techno’s a touch too familiar with the effects of helplessness on people. Of course, the blood-thirsty prince only ever saw it within his victim’s eyes; it’s a look that’s disturbing resting on the expression of someone he’d give anything to protect. 

Wilbur dares a glance away from Techno as the piglin hybrid appears to grow lost in thought, brown eyes catching a spark of hope fluttering within the glossy gaze of the teenager. It’s nearly comforting over how confidence swallows each drop of helplessness within moments, confusion overtaking the poetic prince as to what’s happened that’s caused sudden childish glee in Tommy. 

His eyebrows furrow slightly as he follows the younger’s confident eyes to- 

“Techno, grab-” 

The winged prince moves a bit too quickly for the piglin hybrid to comprehend Wilbur’s words, long legs scrambling against the ground faster than they’ve ever moved before. He flings himself toward the massive window pouring sunlight into his bedroom, Techno’s red cape fastened tightly in his grasp. His mind focuses solely on his exit ticket, ignoring the sound of the golden tray being knocked over somewhere behind him. 

His mind faintly whispers the idea that Philza knocked it over, sparking further encouragement for the youngest prince to sprint faster. He knows he won’t be able to outrun Techno or Wilbur, swiftly discarding the idea of him remaining on the Earth’s surface and merely running to his heart’s content. 

Tommy throws his golden wings in front of his face as he barrels straight into the fragile glass, small twitches of pain rippling throughout his skin as the material gives way to his forceful shove. The first he realizes as he spills onto his room’s balcony is the way the wind twirls around his hair, the breeze playing with each blonde strand as he takes off into the sky. Droplets of water instantly begin to pool on his pale skin, the storm from last night still seeming to have not completely passed. 

Triumphant over the fact that clouds could be used to his advantage, he bundles his eldest brother’s red cape into his arms as he soars higher. Panic motivates each flap of his wings as his ears detect the sound of even more powerful wingbeats trailing not far from behind his fleeing figure. Blood pounds in his ears as he approaches the clouds, barreling straight into the dark clouds without a trace of hesitation. 

He’s already gotten this far, there’s no turning back now. 

The weight of water soaking his red vest and pants go unnoticed, the young prince’s focus entirely on the condition of Techno’s cape. Thankfully, curling it into his chest and hiding it within his arms had saved it from retaining a damp feeling. 

“Tommy, come back!” 

Said prince briefly ignores his father’s call, movements turning desperate as he attempts to make sharp turns to lose the other in the midst of clouds. “You’re going to fuckin’ trap me in that God-forsaken castle!” 

“It’s to keep you safe! Please come back, you might get hurt up here!” 

A hollow laugh escapes Tommy’s cracked lips, “That’s funny because I’m pretty sure I fly more often than you fuckin’ do. I own this sky.” 

His speed picks up in direct time with Philza’s frustrated groan, the teenager beginning to shove himself above the bright valley of clouds before diving under them and into the dull atmosphere. The recollection of the dark heavy bags under his father’s eyes serves as an explanation as to why he hasn’t been caught yet, Philza hasn’t slept in the last 36 hours if his appearance said anything. 

The realization sends a jolt of energy coursing through his veins, a yell of excitement eliciting from his mouth as he lunges back into the fog of clouds. 

Tommy doesn’t resurface below or above the whisps of water droplets, merely gliding through the dark grey swirls with the cape still tucked tightly to his chest. He wonders...if he can get enough distance between him and the older avian, perhaps he can lose him in the fog of clouds. His shorter wingspan enables the two limbs to not poke out from the edge of the clouds, and all it takes is seconds before the clouds cover his tracks. 

He just needs enough distance between him and Philza for the idea to work. 

The teenager enables himself to sink deep into his thoughts as pure adrenaline fuels each wing flap, his mind updating him of Philza’s position every few minutes. It only takes a handful of mindless updates for him to realize that he can’t hear any wingbeats trailing behind him, fatigue beginning to nudge at him now that he's far enough to slow down. 

Moisture from the atmosphere blurs his vision slightly as he cautiously raises himself above the cloud level, knowing that it’ll only take so long for Philza to pass this area in the direction he believes Tommy is going. 

_Thank God there’s rain. He won’t be able to see shit in this weather._

The sound of frantic and exhausted wingbeats below him catches the teenager’s attention, quickly forcing himself to glide down in the air in order to not make a sound. If he knows anything about a panicking Philza, it’s that his senses become sharpened almost immediately if something’s either amiss or going wrong. Even the slightest slip-up could lead the king to find him, and he knows that once he meets the loving gaze of his father, he won’t be able to continue running away. 

It takes everything in the young blonde to not start laughing when Philza’s wingbeats and desperate voice leaves just as quickly as it had come, the man still barreling throughout the clouds like Tommy thought he would. The avian prince waits for a few more moments to ensure that he’s alone before he lowers himself below the clouds, eyes narrowing to survey his surroundings. 

Acres of forestry fill his vision in an instant, the dark green canopy of trees screaming at his mind that it promises sanctuary from watching eyes. He doesn’t think twice before diving toward the forest, fear that Philza may notice him diving into the forest serving as an extra incentive to dive faster. He only slows his pace slightly when he approaches the top of the forested canopy, gently setting himself on a branch as a bird would. 

His hand loops almost expertly around one of the tree’s branches practiced movements enabling him to maneuver successfully down the tree with ease. He can feel his fingers drip with water onto the partially drenched plant, but he doesn’t worry in the slightest over accidentally slipping and falling onto the plush grass swaying beneath him. He trusts his natural instincts of how to climb down a tall-ass tree. 

A triumphant grin quickly appears on his face when he jumps off the final branch, diving into a rolling position against the bright green grass beneath him. Droplets of water that the canopy didn’t hungrily grasp at cling cautiously to his already soaked clothing, embedding themselves deep into the cloth. He can feel his heart begin to calm down as he rests cautiously on the forest floor, his arms beginning to grow itchy with minuscule cuts from running into the window. 

In hindsight, he probably shouldn’t have plummeted straight into shards of tiny knives, but that doesn’t matter anymore. It’s not like he has bandages to wrap up his wounds anyway. 

_Phil would have-_

Tommy’s heart stops almost immediately at the thought, jolting up from his position laying down at the realization that Philza doesn’t know where he is. 

He just successfully ran away from Philza. 

...he just successfully ran away from Philza. 

He can perfectly recall the first time he had tried to run away from the castle, it’d only been a few months since he was adopted by the loving avian. He’d been babied during those first months, treated as though he was five even though he was a twelve-year-old. Philza had always been there to order clothing and food for him, never letting the youngest prince leave his side in fear that the avian would be snatched away from him. The treatment had pissed the twelve-year-old off until one day he couldn’t take it anymore. 

He had bolted out the balcony door that night, under the cover of night, and flew to the nearest village he could find with the intent to start a new life and pretend as though the castle had been nothing but a dream. Ironically, he’d landed right back at the village Philza adopted him from. That night, he had laid under the stars like he used to always do, using his wings as blankets as he fell asleep. 

He awoke that night to Philza panicking and sweeping him into tearful hugs, the man having searched all night for him as soon as he realized the avian was missing. Apologies had spewed from the king’s mouth as though it was water coming from a permanent fountain. Those apologies had felt...nice to the teenager at the time, and the conversation over Philza needing to stop babying him had been even better. 

Techno had been with him for every step of the conversation, occasionally assisting him with demonstrating his feelings despite the eldest being known for his lack of emotional display. The argument hadn’t been aggressive in the slightest, and by the end of it, a massive weight had been lifted from both Tommy and Philza’s chests. 

He had promised never to run away again after that conversation. 

_That prick was asking for it._

Tommy’s fingers fasten themselves once again to Techno’s cape, mind mesmerized by the signature article of clothing that his brother hadn’t hesitated to give to him. He’s always had a gut feeling that the Blood God has a soft spot for the gremlin child, though the piglin hybrid still enjoys keeping the façade that he doesn’t care much for his youngest brother. 

Now that he thinks about it, maybe he should’ve attempted to take Techno with him on his way out of the castle. Maybe then they could traverse the massive forest in an adventurous journey instead of moping on a patch of grass. They could’ve hunted down deer, or talked to traveling merchants-! 

The avian’s blood suddenly runs cold at the realization that he’s currently adventuring in unknown territory, Techno’s cape quickly thrown over both his wings before being clipped at his chest. He’s all up for an adventure, but he’s not a dumbass. He’s heard of the types of shady people that wander about the forest. 

Tommy had at first had a soft spot for the forest when he was growing up on the streets, though that fondness had faded once Philza adopted him. During the first horrible months of his adoption, he had been to plenty of meetings over the subject of hybrid-trafficking, though it had taken quite a while for his young mind to catch up to the fact that Philza had most likely saved him from a life of coming some rich noble’s artwork. 

The thought of being taken prisoner and owned by another living being makes his wings ruffle impatiently under the slightly dampened cape, uncertainty drifting into his gaze as he surveys his environment a touch more carefully. 

His eyes don’t hesitate to lock onto a delicate flower sticking up not far from his sitting position, its white petals swaying gracefully in the soft breeze. Shades of yellow leak cautiously from the center of the plant, painting the beginning of a few petals. A hand is carefully reached out to pluck it, an additional poke causing his mind to declare it to be the softest flower he’s ever poked. 

“Excuse me, is that an Oxeye Daisy?” 

Tommy scrambles to his feet at the new voice, whirling around to catch a glimpse of whoever had dared to approach him during his down-time on the grass. He clutches the flower protectively in his grasp, wings flattening against his back in order to make it seem as though the cape is thicker than it truly is to an outsider. 

His defensive blue gaze quickly lower to meet friendly ones the color of dampened tree bark. As he straightens his posture to appear at his full height, he swears he catches the blood begin to drain from the newcomer’s round face. It’s obvious he has over six inches off of the kid, able to see the top of the brunette’s fluffy head of hair. 

Minuscule dark brown horns poke curiously out of the locks of hair, despite the strands having been styled in a half-ass attempt to conceal them from view. 

“Uh, I didn’t mean to startle you,” the boy begins with a look that appears almost apologetic. He straightens his shoulders much like the avian prince had, attempting to appear unintimidated by the taller; it’s actually kind of funny how the movement doesn’t help him become taller in the slightest. 

“You didn’t fuckin’ startle me,” Tommy mutters quickly, attempting to cover up his slight embarrassment over having been caught off-guard. “I’m just not used to morons stumbling about the forest.” 

“You must be new to traveling then,” the boy laughs. The sound’s sweet, holding a childish aspect to it that confusingly improves the avian’s mood. 

Tommy’s best guess is the kid currently laughing in front of him is about 5’6”, wearing a slightly wrinkled green shirt with buttons. He also features a casual pair of pants, black leather shoes giving the outfit a finishing touch of slight professionalism. Ram ears replace where normal human ears should be, the strange muscles flicking every now and again in the wind. 

“Is that a flower in your hair?” 

The ram hybrid’s face flushes in embarrassment over the question, a hand instinctively flying to touch at the red poppy laying lazily in his hair. “So, what if it is?” he asks rather defensively. “Is there something wrong with that?” 

Tommy innocently places his hands up as though he feared he’d be attacked by the shorter. “Not at all, Big Man.” 

The new nickname evokes a snicker from the creator, the avian enjoying how ironic the nickname is. The kid in front of him is a fucking twig, one that he’s sure the wind could snap in half if it truly attempted to. 

“Big Man?” the shorter echoes, a soft giggle escaping his lips. “I’ll give you a name if you let me have the Oxeye Daisy,” he offers, holding a hand out expectantly. 

“What if I like this flower?” 

A pout conquers the ram hybrid’s face in an instant, his nose scrunching up slightly. “It’s the last one of the season! And you’d be offending the flower crown I’m making.” 

“Fine, fuckin’ take it,” Tommy grumbles, placing the flower carefully on the palm of the newcomer’s hand. He watches as the hybrid’s face lights up in joy, tucking it in his hair right beside the poppy. “Now can I get a name?” 

“A name?” 

_Jesus, is this kid fucking stupid?_

“Oh, right!” a nervous laugh fills the air shortly after his words. “The names To-Tubbo.” 

“Toe-Tubbo?” Tommy questions with a massive grin, “Nice to meet you Toe-Tubbo.” 

‘Toe-Tubbo’ fakes an offended expression over the teasing nickname. “It’s Tubbo! Now you have to give me yours.” 

“I don’t think I ever agreed to that,” the young prince protests, faking a bored expression. It quickly turns into an expression of pain when he feels a foot stomp on his own. “What the fuck, you prick! What was that for!” 

“It’s nice to meet you...” 

A beat of silence along with an expectant gaze locks itself onto the taller. 

“Tommy.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, Tommy.” 

The two appear to study each other for a few more seconds before the ‘Tubbo’ kid motions excitedly toward another patch of grass not far from their current spot. “Tommy, look!” 

“You’re fuckin’ short, you know that?” the prince questions, amusement glittering in his gaze when the ram hybrid frowns in playful disagreement. 

“And you’re an asshole,” Tubbo retorts, lightly punching the taller before grasping his arm and yanking him further into the forest. “There are tulips here!” 

“Tulips? Why are you excited about tulips?” 

“Well, there are no tulips in the-” 

Tommy can’t help but lift an eyebrow when Tubbo’s mouth audibly clicks shut, the ram hybrid becoming deep in thought before he decides to correct his sentence. 

“-where I live,” the short brunette finishes with a proud smile. 

“Damn, where do you live? In the middle of a fuckin’ desert?” 

“No! Who’d want to live in a desert?” Tubbo wrinkles his nose in disgust to display his blatant distaste for the given biome. 

“I don’t know, Big Man. Your conversation skills are about as dry as one.” 

Tommy laughs to himself over his own joke, the shorter having stuck his tongue out in protest before nearly sprinting for a red tulip blossoming from an area of lengthy grass. The blades snap mindlessly at the avian’s shoes as he walks toward the flower, craning his neck out in interest over the boy’s reaction. 

Tulips could be found almost anywhere in the Antarctic Kingdom, an announcement Philza having made a few months before he was adopted. He distinctly recalled the replanting of flowers in his home village, along with the constant rows of tulips that line the castle’s garden. He’s never understood his father’s fascination with the type of flower; he just remembers how the man would talk hours on end over facts on them. 

The closest he got to an explanation over why he adored tulips had been a saddened smile and their garden walk being cut off immediately before Philza excused himself. Tommy had never attempted to bring the topic up again. “How the fuck can you be so interested in flowers? I mean, they’re pretty and all, but I see them almost every day.” 

“My father isn’t particularly fond of flowers,” Tubbo explains as he plucks the tulip from its stem. Hints of disappointment seep into his voice as he speaks. 

“So, he’s only fond of fucking rams?” 

Tommy jumps a solid foot off the ground when the ram hybrid suddenly collapses in on himself, reaching a hand out carefully to make sure the other is alright. He quickly retracts his grasp when he realizes that Tubbo’s shoulders are violently shaking in laughter, the loud bellow bouncing from his lungs and against the trees surrounding them. 

“You’re going to wake the whole forest up, dickhead!” 

The bellows quickly dull into giggles at the avian prince’s point, a finger rising to brush a tear from his face. “I’m- I’m-” 

Tubbo has to break off his sentence to further compose himself, face scrunching in pure delight over Tommy’s words. “It was just so unexpected.” 

“The comment about your parents fucking or about the ram?” 

“Both,” the brunette responds truthfully, knees feeling weak as he plucks the red tulip from its stem and rising. He sways slightly as he attempts to keep himself from remaining hysterical, gingerly setting the flower in the avian’s hand before giving a flimsy gesture toward his hair. “Do you mind putting it beside the Oxeye Daisy?” 

“If you say so,” Tommy responds, tilting his head when Tubbo suddenly begins to sit down. “The fuck are you doing?” 

“Can you-” 

“I can literally see the top of your head when you’re standing, you don’t need to sit down,” the avian stifles his laughter over the whole situation, missing the embarrassed flush on Tubbo’s face. He waits for the brunette to stand up yet again before turning his attention to properly place the tulip in the other’s hair. 

Tommy begins to set the flower in with cautious movements, frowning almost as soon as it enters those dark brown locks of hair. “Y’know,” he begins, his tongue instinctively moving to the left of his mouth in a concentrative face over the task at hand. “You should focus your flower arrangements more on being around your horns.” 

“You think?” 

“Yeah, it looks like shit right now.” 

A bundle of laughter erupts yet again between the two of them. 

“Well then fix it, prick,” Tubbo responds without a trace of malice within his voice, waiting patiently as he feels Tommy begin to rearrange each flower so that one horn is fitted with a white and red flower while the other horn only has a red one. 

“You’ll have to find another one of those ‘Oxford Daisies’ to make the red to white ratio look good.” 

"'Oxeye Daisy’.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, bitch.” 

The young duo quickly finds themselves laying in the soft patch of grass, having noticed the rain go away and thus want to lay down and absorb each ray of sunlight they can enjoy. A teasing discussion over which weather held supremacy is quickly started without even trying. Every once in a while, one would effortlessly make a mocking joke and the other would flawlessly retort as though it was second nature. 

“I reckon you’re dressed pretty fancily for laying down in the dirt.” 

Tommy glances toward his outfit, shuffling the red cape so that it covered most of his outfit. “Well, I reckon that you’re a big-nosed prick digging into my own business.” 

“Damn,” Tubbo chuckles, hands raising to proclaim his innocence. “I guess that’s fair enough, though.” 

Soon, a peaceful sense of silence fills the air, the sole sound of birds chirping adding to the calm atmosphere. To Tommy, there isn’t a single thing to care about currently. 

Somehow, a shitty start to a day had turned into him meeting someone he was sure was actually named ‘Toe-Tubbo’. He’ll have to keep that nickname in his back pocket for later use; perhaps he’ll use it when the shorter tries to be snarky towards him or is being too energetic. 

He hadn’t quite realized it before, but the kid truly has a lot of energy; he practically radiates it. 

Tommy’s mouth opens slightly as he turns his head with the intent to strike up yet another conversation, though the words die in his throat when he realizes that Tubbo’s eyes are shut, his chest taking even breaths on the forest floor. 

_No fuckin’ way._

The avian prince shoves the thought of waking his new- 

Friend? 

Partner in crime. 

-partner in crime, deciding that it’d be best to simply enjoy the peace and quiet of the world for once. After all, he can’t stay away from the castle forever. As much as he’d love to remain and chat with Tubbo forever, it’s impossible that he’ll be able to stay for long. Maybe he could ask to stay with the ram hybrid. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to try? 

“Tubbo?” 

Tommy makes a face when the shorter doesn’t respond, still fast asleep. 

“Tubbo? Wake up before I have to-” 

His playful threat quickly turns into a rushed punch when he hears the clacking of horse hooves approaching the duo from not too far away. His brunette partner in crime awakes almost immediately, eyebrows raised questioningly as to why he was woken up. 

“Tommy, why the hell did you-?” 

“Shut!” the avian prince suddenly demands, clapping a hand against the other’s mouth. He doesn’t mind the muffled protest currently being talked into his hand, forcing Tubbo to his feet before he stands in front of him. He isn’t sure who on Earth could happen to stumble upon them, but he needs them both to look intimidating just in case it’s- 

_I’m so fucked._

The glossy appearance of the horse’s mane is enough for Tommy to instantly recognize both the horse and its rider. The orange hue of the animal’s coat shines elegantly, genuine surprise conquering the avian prince’s figure at not seeing the horse in diamond armor. That must’ve meant that they left in a hurry. 

“Tommy?” 

Said prince stiffens at the monotone voice addressing him by name, eyes briefly clenching shut before reopening to find the face of his eldest brother staring him down with a gaze full of concern. An unmasked face at that. His blood-red eyes are there for all to see, though they’re filled with relief instead of fury. 

Actually, he takes that back, now they’re filled with fury. 

Tommy stiffens when his brother’s descent off his horse is followed by the drawing of his sword, following the other’s gaze toward the rigid figure of Tubbo standing beside him. The shorter is immediately yanked behind the youngest prince, arms spreading out so that his wings can remain tucked under his brother’s cape. 

“Absolutely not, Big T,” the avian huffs, taking a protective stance over the shorter. “He’s with me.” 

Techno stops his advance almost immediately, braided pink hair swaying in the wind as he keeps his sword in one hand. “Is he armed?” 

“Does he look armed?” 

“Hey!” 

The weak protest earns a tight grin from the eldest prince, the sword sheathed without an ounce of hesitation. It both comforts and offends the shortest of the ohmygoddon’tcomecloser- 

Fear writes itself over Tubbo’s face when Techno resumes approaching the duo, standing even taller than Tommy. His broad shoulders make him look built like a wall, a wall that the brunette wouldn’t even think about breaking through. 

“Uh, hi?” 

“Ay, Big T! Meet Tubbo!” 

“Let's go.” 

“What?” the duo responds in unison. 

“You heard me, Phil’s worried sick,” Techno huffs, arms crossing to demonstrate how serious he is. As soon as Tommy had left, the blood-thirsty prince had sprinted for the stables, entering the forest without a second thought. That is after he got Tommy’s announced two guards to protect Wilbur while the king and he find their gremlin of a brother. “Get on Carl.” 

“But I just met Tubbo!” 

“Fun. Get on Carl.” 

“Don’t be a dickhead, Te-Big T! This is what I was talking about, Tubbo. He’s always in a rush to go places-” 

“I don’t know, Tommy. He’s got a crown on his head, he seems important,” the brunette whispers to the other, still stiff over the fact that the eldest prince has a sword on him. 

It takes a few moments for the avian to comprehend his friend’s words, confusion overtaking his features before it turns into sheer laughter. Either this kid has never heard of the Blood God, or the fact that he doesn’t have a mask is throwing him off. “That’s just the crown I gave him,” he explains with a goofy grin. “He hasn’t taken it off since I gave him it. He’s fuckin’ clingy, I’m telling you! He’ll call me a gremlin but he’ll give me his cape if I ask for it.” 

“Which reminds me, I’m going to be needing that back.” 

Tommy shoots his brother a look that says he won’t be giving it back until they’re away from Tubbo. For whatever reason, either this kid doesn’t know their royalty or he’s doing well at hiding that he knows. To be honest, it’s probably the first option. 

“What if I just run and take off into the woods? You wouldn’t be able to catch me.” 

“Mm, debatable,” Techno responds, gesturing toward the horse grazing patiently on the grass. “I have a crossbow, so I don’t think you’d get far.” 

“Are you threatening me, bitch?” the youngest demands with a challenging yet playful expression. He takes a step toward his brother, a grin on his face that remains until he feels the anxious tug of Tubbo’s hand on his arm. 

“Let’s not aggravate the weaponized man,” the ram hybrid suggests with a nervous laugh. 

“He wouldn’t shoot me, Tubbo. Don’t worry about it.” 

Techno raises an eyebrow questioningly, “Do you really want to bet on that?” 

Now it’s Tommy’s turn to laugh nervously. “I really don’t.” 

“Alright, gremlin. Get on Carl before I do get the crossbow out.” 

“Fine,” the avian grunts, turning toward Tubbo with a grin on his face. “We’ll make a shit ton of mischief together, Tubbo! And we’ll go somewhere where this bitch can’t find us.” 

The ram hybrid stifles a burst of laughter over that, extending a hand and offering a genuine smile toward the other. “That sounds amazing! Hopefully, someday our paths will cross again.” 

Tommy grasps tightly at the extended hand, shaking it before yanking the shorter close. “A week from now, we meet in this exact spot, deal?” 

The avian prince doesn’t wait for a nod of approval before using a hand to push him away playfully. “See ya later, Big Man,” he offers a witty salute before retreating back toward Carl, swinging himself onto the horse. 

“Can I steer, Big T?” 

“And have us thrown off a cliff? No. Move over.” 

Tommy slumps over as his older brother shuffles onto the horse in front of him, the reins grabbed without hesitation as they begin a short trot back to the castle. He watches longingly as Tubbo disappears within his peripheral vision, his shoulders sagging now that he doesn’t have to worry about appearing shorter to the brunette. 

“Are we going to talk about what just happened, or...?” 

“Absolutely fuckin’ not,” Tommy responds. “You saw me alone in the forest and that’s it. Phil’s already going to chew my ass out for taking off.” 

“He’s just trying to look out for you, you know.” 

“Oh, shut up.” 

_What the fuck am I supposed to tell Phil?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is so long, oh my goodness. I hope you guys enjoyed Chapter 3! Feel free to leave a comment, it helps to motivate me to continue writing this story.
> 
> EDIT:  
> I-  
> Thank you guys so much for the supportive comments, I don't respond to them because it throws the comment ratio off, but I love you all! It warms my heart whenever I log in and see that comments were left on this story. I'm having tons of fun writing it!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philza and Tommy reunite to clarify the rules of the castle lockdown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the support, I love you all so much! I'm having a blast writing this fanfiction and the main plotline will kick off soon, I promise! I just have some more setup to go through before the real action can begin.
> 
> Want to get some headcanons regarding this AU? Want to be notified of new chapter updates through a popular app? Well, now it's possible! I have started a TikTok under the username, @everlasting_wonders and I'll be posting frequently with content regarding my writings and this AU. If you have the chance, feel free to check my account out!
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy Chapter 4!

“...mmy...” 

_What?_

“...Tom...” 

_The fuck?_

“Tommy!” 

The avian prince’s mind can faintly register the tapping of something against his knee, the muscles stiffening in response to the foreign touch. His bright blue eyes briefly flutter open, a tired groan escaping his lips as he tries to get a grasp on his surroundings. He can recall the smooth ride through the forest, counting each swaying tree they passed. The last thing he can recall is the calming touch of kicked-up pond water dotting his pants before he surrendered his consciousness and slumped against his eldest brother’s back. 

A swift glance paints his reality with delicate ease, the warm spruce wood combined with the hollow sound of hooves shuffling against the ground enabling him to recognize the place as the castle’s stables. He can feel sawdust and hay tickle at his nose, the organ twitching slightly in irritation over the feeling. 

Conscious muffled from the everlasting fog of sleep, he can barely register the fact that his eldest brother’s moving until the feeling of a leather boot abruptly smacks against his forehead. It forces him to recoil in surprise, hands grasping behind him at Carl’s fur to keep himself steady and from falling onto the stone brick flooring. 

The uncoordinated action earns himself a displeased snort from his eldest brother’s horse, the sound of the animal’s hoof scratching warningly against the ground practically deafening to Tommy’s ears. His tight grip on Carl’s fur loosens instantaneously in favor of him rubbing impatiently at his eyes in an attempt to clear the green spots dotting his vision. 

A wave of relief momentarily crashes through him when he somehow manages to not get a clump of horse fur stuck in his eyes, though his gaze still sparks with irritation when he uncovers his face. He’s left to meet the amused grin of his eldest brother; the man had dismounted from the horse to grasp at Carl’s reigns with the intent to guide him toward his stall. 

“That wasn’t funny, you prick! What if that left a boot mark!” Tommy can’t help but shake his fist angrily at his brother as he scowls. 

“You’ll have a hoof print as well if you don’t get off Carl,” the piglin hybrid points out, ears flicking as though to brush aside the clear annoyance radiating off the youngest prince. “You interrupted him in the middle of his breakfast, and he’d like to get back to eating it.” 

The avian prince wastes no time sliding off of the horse with the given information, quick strides taken toward Techno’s left-hand side so that there’d be someone in between Carl and himself. He finds himself wincing slightly as he begins to recall how far the sun had been in the sky before he had dozed off to the smooth trot of the stallion; it had to have been at least half past noon as of now. 

Guilt pools deep within the youngest’s gut, his stance suddenly feeling unnatural in comparison to the confident and brisk steps of his brother. His hands find themselves hiding within the pockets of his black pants, knowing that if he kept them out that they’d start fiddling with each other as he begins to ponder. 

Had Techno really been out searching for him ever since this morning? That would’ve been at least five hours of the Blood God running on pure panic and adrenaline. Despite the remorse attempting to coarse through his veins, the thought of his eldest brother breaking his relaxed façade draws a soft laugh out of him, the piglin hybrid raising a questioning eyebrow in a silent question as to what was found funny. 

“You missed me, didn’t you?” 

“Don’t look too far into it; Phil was about to start throwing things when he got back to the castle,” Techno grunts, expression dipping more serious to accent the truthful statement. “I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it, but what you did to Phil was pretty shitty.” 

The red cape clipped at Tommy’s chest suddenly feels as though the weight of the world drags on it, the teenager forcing his steps not to falter as he keeps pace with Techno. Dread creeps throughout his skin as his mind silently debates how Philza’s reaction will be to him returning to the castle. The last conversation they had over him running away had gone smoothly, his father had been nothing but understanding and respectful over the set boundaries; that had been a conversation that didn’t directly involve the threat of his safety, though. 

Neither prince comments on the overwhelming silence that engulfs the two as Techno opens Carl’s stall, guiding the elegant stallion inside to finish his breakfast meal. A suspicion-filled bray is uttered the eldest prince’s way, to which the hybrid pushes gently at the horse’s head before patting the side of his neck and removing the bridle. “Go eat your hay before someone steals it.” 

Carl complies with his rider’s orders rather indignantly, trotting over to the barrel of hay before bending his head low enough to nibble protectively at the crop. 

A sigh escapes the piglin hybrid as he closes the stall gate behind him, his walk toward the exit of the stables hesitating when he doesn’t catch the familiar steps of Tommy following behind him. He doesn’t bother to turn around to address the other, remaining facing the stable doors as his mouth opens. “Are you coming?” 

The avian can hear the concern creep shyly from the depths of Techno’s monotone voice; he’d make a joke that he was touched by the display of emotion had it not been tracing the other’s voice for a good reason. 

Blood pounds within his ears as he stares absentmindedly at Carl, unable to tear his gaze away from the sight of the horse enjoying his late breakfast. It isn’t the glossy shine of the stallion’s coat that attracts his attention and keeps his feet glued to the ground; it’s the fierce glare that’s being aimed at him through that black abyss he could barely call an eye. He can practically feel the hatred brewing within that gaze, and he can’t help but wish as though he could remain here forever. 

He can yell at a stubborn horse for as long as his throat let him and never have to think anything about it. 

But now he has to face Philza and whatever consequences that await him within the castle doors. 

The avian openly flinches when the warm touch of a calloused hand places itself on his shoulder, his eldest brother offering a sympathetic gaze that resembled an emotion close to comfort. “I didn’t search for you for five hours just to have you stare Carl down,” Techno begins in an attempt to break his sibling from his worrying thoughts. 

“I know that.” 

_Prick_ , the word dies on his tongue before it can be uttered, swallowing sharply as he finally tears himself away from Carl’s stall. He feels awfully small in direct comparison to his much taller brother, the hand never leaving his shoulder as the two begin to walk toward the exit of the stables. His wings flex instinctively underneath the red cape in a weak attempt to make himself look even a touch bigger to onlookers. 

“Just because Phil isn’t happy with your decision doesn’t mean he’s going to disown you.” 

“What the fuck?” 

The avian prince stares dumbfounded at his older brother, fear momentarily flashing through him over the serious expression conquering the other’s face. What was that supposed to mean? Did Philza ever joke about disowning one of them-? 

“You seemed nervous?” 

“And that’s supposed to make me less nervous?” Tommy finds irritation tracing each syllable of his words, one of which only grows when Techno offers a snort. 

“Well, now you know Phil won’t disown you.” 

“Thanks?” 

“Anytime.” 

_You’ve got to be fucking kidding me._

Tommy can barely believe that this is the person he turns to for comfort within this family. Still, he finds himself grasping tighter at the fabric of his sibling’s cape as they walk. It sends unnerving shudders down his spine seeing the castle loom mockingly over the duo, everything within the youngest’s mind yelling at him to run away and never allow himself the opportunity to be locked away. 

Dulling blue eyes trace the delicate wood of the doors leading into the impressive building; doors that lead into something that now resembles a comfortable prison. 

His breath hitches in time with his gaze eyeing the seemingly harmless entrée, uncertainty echoing through his shoes. He can’t even calm his ruffling feathers over the idea of not being able to fly through the sky on a whim. 

It just...isn’t fair. 

To the teenager, Philza shouldn’t have a say of when he’s allowed to escape castle life and search for comfort within the clouds; he should be able to feel the wind braid his feathers as he soars high enough to feel the oxygen escape from the atmosphere. 

Tommy swiftly takes a bold step through the castle’s doorway, warm air that he once found relief and joy in now providing a stale comparison to the playful bitterness of the outside air. He glances longingly behind himself, peering into the outside world with furrowed eyebrows. 

“Until we meet again,” the avian prince mutters toward the atmosphere, golden wings letting out a grieving quiver beneath the cape. 

It feels as though each turn around the corner locks the duo deeper within a winding labyrinth; the deeper they embed themselves within the castle walls, the less connected he feels with the sky. A question over if Philza ever feels this way when he’s overloaded with kingdom work briefly works its way throughout his mind. 

Tommy nearly stumbles over his own feet a few times, his legs feeling heavier than normal. Embarrassment would burn into his cheeks every time he’d catch a maid gasping before blatantly gesturing toward the returned prince, though the servants would quickly be silenced by a glare from the Blood God himself. 

The protective gesture goes barely noticed, the avian too busy hugging his wings to his chest despite his typical behavior being to spread them out as far as possible within the hall. 

“Phil?” 

The teenager becomes acutely aware of the humble dark oak door creaking in protest over Techno pushing at it, instantly recognizing it as belonging to Philza’s room. His throat feels tight with thousands of words that want to spill from his lips though none find themselves able to become audible. 

The two princes know the mess that lies inside the room, and they aren’t talking about the cleanliness of the room. 

Techno dares to creep further into the room when there’s a lack of response stemming from the enormous room. Tommy remains inside the hallway, just in case their father isn’t within the room and thus they’ll have to go on a hunt to find him. 

His wings tense when he hears something like a startled grunt from the Blood God within the king’s room, his blue gaze able to recognize the ruffled and scattered dark grey feathers of enormous wings. 

The eldest prince’s protests over feathers smacking into his face go unheard as Philza grasps at his arm. 

“Tech, please tell me you found him.” 

Tommy can feel his heart wrench at the desperation flooding his father’s typically charming yet exhausted voice, guilt crumbling the walls of confidence he had shakily begun to build around his mind ever since he stepped into the castle. 

“I-” 

Philza doesn’t allow the piglin hybrid to utter another word, withdrawing as though he’d been struck and making his way toward the room’s door. 

“Fuck- 

“I’m so stupid, I shouldn’t have let you talk me out of a search party, goddamnit-!” 

“Dad?” 

Tommy’s muscles turn rigid as he reveals himself in the doorway, alarm filling his senses when he gets an enhanced look at the state of his father’s room. Dozens of feathers float around the air; it’s a detail that tells the teenager that he’s been flapping his wings aggressively out of panic and stress. 

A few chairs lay strewn about the room, having toppled over by whatever flight pattern Philza had used to distract his senses from the idea of something happening to his youngest son. 

Techno’s in a half-kneeling position, the eldest brother refusing to get up properly in case their father accidentally batters him to the ground from flinging his wings. 

“Toms?” 

It’s been ages since Philza’s called him that. 

The prince’s mouth slightly opens to address the shocked king standing in front of him, words still absent from his throat as shame riots throughout his body. The organized chaos that used to be his father’s natural hairstyle looks more erratic, as though he hasn’t taken a look in the mirror in weeks. 

He’d only been gone for less than half a day; is this seriously the effect his momentary disappearance had left on the older avian? 

“I’m-” 

Philza falters at the choked voice of his youngest son, wasting no time sweeping the teenager into a hug and using his wings to trap the other in his loving embrace. A hand combs gingerly through the blonde curls as Tommy’s shoulders begin to shake with guilt and remorse. “I-It’s okay, we’re okay,” the king quickly soothes as his arms lock tightly around the taller. 

“I’m so sorry, Tommy. I’m so, so, so, sorry.” 

Said teenager doesn’t attempt to stop his father from moving him further into the decorated room, mind locking onto the delicate touch of Philza brushing through his golden wings. It has him melting instinctively within the other’s arms, feeling nearly boneless as he’s cradled tightly as though he was a child being comforted by a parent after a nightmare. 

His shoulders slump enough for the shorter king to be able to rest his chin on top of the prince’s unkempt hair, a hand gently holding the back of the teenager’s head. 

“I can’t afford to lose you, Tommy. Please, I can’t. I can’t lose you too.” 

“You won’t.” 

Tommy hides the quiver threatening to shake each promising word that spills from his lips. Each infuriated thought rioting off the idea of being kept inside dances gracefully with the longing to remain protected and sheltered for eternity; it leaves him paralyzed within the other’s grasp. 

He wants to shove away his guilt through frustrated questions and stomp about the room, telling the shorter that he should’ve expected him to run away after being banned from going outside. 

But, he can’t. 

He can’t match those glossy blue eyes filled with nothing but relief over his son’s safety with fury in his own. He can’t push aside the massive wings encasing him in a hug that promises invincibility from the outside world. He can’t interrupt his father’s opening mouth with words filled with irritation and pain. 

“Never do that again,” Philza nearly pleads, his words carefully stepping on the line that divides a protective command from desperation. It evokes a saddened smile from the teenager followed by him nodding numbly into his father’s shoulders. 

“Come on, Phil. There’s only so long I can stay out of trouble.” 

Tommy feels his posture relax entirely at the familiar feeling of Philza’s shoulders shaking with laughter. It’s less powerful than normal, though, to him, a touch of laughter is better than deafening silence. 

“Mate, I’ll tear you a new ear if I ever catch you doing this again,” the fair king jokes lightly, though serious undertones lacing his words solidify the truth behind the statement. 

“Alright, alright. I fuckin’ get it,” the taller grumbles, pushing lightly at the dark grey wings encasing him. The feathers part slightly to enable his son to move, Tommy wriggling free with ease. He doesn’t pull away entirely, merely enough so that he can properly straighten his shoulders and flex his golden wings. 

Silence begins to develop between the two avians, neither glancing toward the noise of shuffling happening a few paces to their left. They both know it’s Techno sweeping himself off of the floor now that he knows flapping wings aren’t a concern. 

“What would I do without you, Techno? Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank the prick! He ruined my fun adventure!” 

The piglin hybrid finds himself rolling his eyes at the defensive statement, “Right, because walking around an empty forest is a fun adventure.” 

“Hey-!” 

“How about you tell me all about it while I preen your feathers?” 

As if this moment couldn’t get any better. 

“That,” his wings drag slightly at the tempting offer in relief, “That sounds nice. Wilbur never did fulfill his promise of preening my feathers.” 

“Actually, that reminds me,” Philza gently interrupts, an apologetic look over changing the subject sent Tommy’s way. “Techno, could you go grab Jack?” 

The pinkette tips his head in his own version of a nod. “Sure, but if I come back missing an arm, I’m blaming you. Wilbur’s writing something to help him take his mind off everything and isn’t going to like someone interrupting him.” 

“What is he gonna do? Break his own guitar to piss you off?” Tommy snorts. 

The rhetorical question evokes a genuine laugh out of the eldest prince, the sound quickly suppressed before he turns toward the dark oak door. “I’ll be back in a few.” 

Philza carefully guides his youngest son toward a large basket suspended from the room’s massive ceiling, using his massive wings to boost them both on top of the cozy piece of furniture. He taps his youngest son’s shoulder carefully before gesturing toward the red cape hiding his golden feathers, a silent question being asked. 

Tommy doesn’t hesitate to give a soft nod, unclipping the article of clothing before placing it neatly on his lap. His fingers trace at the silky fabric, a chirp of content echoing from him when he feels fingers begin to thread in between his wing’s golden feathers. 

“Phil?” 

“Hm?” the older blonde hums in acknowledgment. 

“Who’s Jack? His fuckin’ name makes him sound like a wanker.” 

Philza allows a laugh to escape his lips, keeping his gaze focused on his son’s wings as he begins to think over the best way to describe the man. Finally, he offers a nod despite the taller not being able to see it. “The cunt is one. Thought you wanted someone you had something in common with.” 

“I didn’t come in here to talk to Sass-za,” Tommy mutters under his breath, faking an offended huff. “This better not be some fuckin’ arranged marriage shit.” 

“The fuck? What makes you think I’d send you off to some bratty old rich kid for you never to be heard from again?” 

The younger avian shrugs, “Maybe because I’m annoying as fuck?” 

“You aren’t wrong there, mate. But his job is to watch over you-” 

“Like a babysitter? Come on, Phil, you can’t be serious!” 

“He wouldn’t have been full-time if you hadn’t run off,” the king points out with a grin. “Speaking of which, what’d you even do during those hours you were gone?” 

Tommy hesitates slightly at the question, mind attempting to come up with ways to talk about his morning as close to the truth as possible without providing hints that he may have met someone within the forest. It isn’t that he doesn’t trust Philza with the information, it’s just that it’d probably put the ruler on edge. If Techno had immediately grown defensive around Tubbo, then he couldn’t imagine what Philza’s reaction may be. 

He can count more than a few times where his mindless rambles nearly cause him to hint at the ram hybrid, his mind attempting to focus on substituting Tubbo for ‘me, myself and I’ while still melting into the warm feeling of his father gingerly combing through his feathers. 

Each touch is leaned into as though it’s second nature, his blue eyes holding themselves lightly shut to show his pure delight over the situation. In all honesty, a few chirp-like noises are allowed to drag themselves from his throat as soon as Philza announces that he’s preened a single wing to damn-near perfection. 

The preening of his other wing goes just as smoothly, small talk falling naturally between the two avians. Tommy’s ability to push away the sadness and relief in Philza’s voice by cracking frequent jokes helps to keep the mood bright and friendly. 

A joke over eggs being delicious specifically incites a genuinely loud laugh from his father, only for irritation to spoil the moment when the room’s door opening cuts the joyous sound short. His once content blue gaze turns challenging as he turns to greet Techno and this so-called prick named ‘Jack’. 

The instant the newcomer takes a step into the room, Tommy decides that the man being presented is nothing but a scumbag attempting to look cocky in the presence of royalty. His leather shoes smack arrogantly against the hardwood flooring, his stand-still position including one knee casually bent. He features a head of short brown hair; it appears as though the man had gotten a hair cut as fresh as yesterday. 

His dark brown gaze sparks with intense pride, a smug grin trapped on his face to complete the snobby appearance. A dark blue shirt uses a diamond patterning to its advantage with leather buckles closing the shirt down the left side of his figure. Dark black pants with a sheathed sword around his buckle glint casually in the room’s natural lighting. 

Tommy can practically smell the new leather gloves encasing both of Jack’s hands, the ends of the accessory opposite to Wilbur’s graceful style. While his older brother takes preference in tight-fitting gloves, the man in front of him wears gloves that open at the end, loosely fitting against his arm. 

In all honesty, it looks as though a single flick of the wrist could knock the items off his hands. 

“You wished to speak with me, Your Majesty?” 

The avian prince swears that the man’s raking his nails against a chalkboard as he speaks. “This is the wanker you were talking about?” 

Childish triumph ignites within his gaze when something close to hurt shines itself within Jack’s eyes; it’s an emotion that’s quickly covered up, though the comment had clearly surprised the other. 

“Yeah, this is him.” 

“You’re not going to defend my honor?” Jack finds himself questioning, traces of bitterness within his tone. 

“You can do that yourself; that’s what a knight does, isn’t it?” Philza points out with a frown. 

“I could never dishonor the royal family like that-” 

“Oi, shut the fuck up, will you?” Tommy growls though it’s clear to the king that there isn’t true malice within his son’s tone. The prince is blatantly attempting to provoke an outraged verbal response, trying to test the waters as to how much he could get under the knight’s skin. 

His wings twitch in a mixture of anticipation and curiosity when Jack’s stance stiffens to make him appear more on-guard. It’s a touch disappointing that the knight opens his mouth to come up with what could be assumed is a retort before snapping his jaw shut. 

“Smart,” Techno comments from behind the knight, taking a few strides toward the tall basket his father and sibling are nesting in. His signature boar skull sits comfortably on his face as though it had never left in the first place. His hands hold themselves out expectantly toward the two avians. “I’m going to need my cape back.” 

“What the fuck, man! You gave it up fair and square!” 

“You’re not crying, are you?” 

“No, but I’ll make myself!” the blonde threatens. 

“Tommy, I can get you my cape if you’d like,” Philza suddenly offers, gesturing toward the dark green piece of clothing lying crumpled on top of his bed. “It’s not the Blood God’s cape, but it’s large enough to fit your wings comfortably.” 

The youngest prince takes a few seconds to sincerely debate the offer, glancing between the red cape and the green one intently. He swiftly drops from the nest to the floor, throwing Techno his cape before flapping his wings to propel himself toward the cozy-looking bed. He doesn’t pay attention to the fact that one of his wings smacks the piglin hybrid across the face due to the flapping. 

“Tommy-!” Techno furiously growls, wiping at his face as golden feathers dance around his frame. “If you got a single feather in my eye-” 

The avian doesn’t comment on the unfinished threat of his eldest brother, too busy clasping on his father’s royal cape. The material isn’t nearly as soft as Techno’s, but it feels lighter on his wings and shoulders, not weighing the limbs down. 

“Thanks, Phil!” Tommy calls out as he finishes looking over the dark green cape, silently noting how he’s still wearing the red vest from last night’s... ‘discussion’. It feels almost awkward being in the presence of his father in such dressed up clothing. 

“Of course, mate,” a friendly smile lights up the king’s face while he lowers himself from the nest and back onto the ground, ruffling Tommy’s golden locks of hair. “Techno and I have some matters to attend to real quick, think you and Jack can handle yourselves?” 

“I’ll guard him with my life, Your Majesty,” Jack promises, his shoulders still tense as Tommy dares to take a few steps in his direction. “Would you also like me to ask Elizabeth to do a sweep of the room?” 

“If possible,” Philza agrees before glancing around the mess of a room. “You’re in capable hands, Tommy; just try and not to be a cunt to him.” 

“No promises, Dadza,” Tommy rolls his eyes, taking the lead of stepping into the hall despite Jack having planned to exit first. He can hear the clink of Jack’s sword shuffle when he’s forced to stop in place to not run into the taller, wings twitching with the urge to ‘accidentally’ puff out and smack at him. 

“So, Prince Tommy,” Jack begins once the duo is out of earshot, a brief attempt to walk in front of the younger stopped immediately by the prince’s spread wings. He can’t help the huff of annoyance that’s made under his breath, cursing himself for not having tried harder to leave the room first. But that doesn't matter, if the kid wants to be a prick, he has whatever’s coming to him. “How was your expedition outside the castle?” 

“It was fine.” 

“Nothing interesting happen?” 

“Nope. Nothing at all.” 

“At least the sky must’ve been nice-” 

Jack swears he nearly jumps out of his skin when the avian suddenly whirls around to face him, fiercely glaring at him as the teenager uses his height to loom over the other. Those wings flaring defensively aren’t helping to calm his nerves either. 

“Listen, you ugly bastard. You’re here to keep Phil happy by keeping me ‘safe’, and nothing else. I don’t give a fuck about making small talk with you, just do your goddamn job and piss off.” 

“I can’t exactly protect you if you keep crowding the hallway,” Jack finds himself retorting, anger coursing through his mind. “Move out of the way and let me do my job if that’s what you want.” 

The knight doesn’t allow Tommy to pull his wings behind him before he’s nudging the limbs aside to get in front of the taller. The hiss the disgust stemming from the younger goes ignored, the prince acting as though he’d been burned by having his wings touched. 

“Don’t ever fuckin’ touch my wings again. I don’t want you dirtying them.” 

“Especially after dear old father cleaned them?” 

“What happened to honoring the royal family?” 

A snort escapes Jack, “Why would I be honorable next to someone who doesn’t give me an ounce of respect? And what are you going to do; smack me with your wing?” 

“A tempting offer,” Tommy grunts in annoyance, “It’d surely put you in your place.” 

Amusement flashes briefly within Jack’s dark brown gaze, an indigent retort swirling inside his mind. “I don’t think I’m the one that needs to be put in place. I think the fact that you’re getting a new room after you shattered a glass window and that you need a personal guard to protect you proves that King Philza doesn’t trust you in the slightest.” 

“You would’ve run if you were in my place. I was being guaranteed a one-way ticket to a life of confinement and sky-less days.” 

“And making my family fear that I was shot down and kidnapped or killed? Yeah, I totally would’ve run as well.” 

“You don’t know anything, you prick. How about you keep the fuck away from my business.” 

The nonchalant shrug the knight gives the blonde avian causes his eyes to twitch with fury. “Your business is mine so long as I’m entrusted with your safety. Maybe when you can prove that you can take care of yourself, King Philza will trust you with some freedom.” 

Tommy’s mouth wrenches open in preparation for a speech of curses to flow through his mouth, wings stiffening and raising in a warning for Jack to be careful with his words. Philza trusts him; he always has. Having his own personal guard has to do with the fact that his father doesn’t trust ‘Schlatt’s plans. 

“Your room is on your left.” 

The youngest prince doesn’t hesitate to kick the designated door immediately after the calling, shoulders naturally relaxing to enable his wings to catch the warm, golden rays of sunlight. And yet, despite him stepping into the cozy room, he’s only met with the wavering warmth stemming from groups of candles. 

There isn’t a single window in sight to allow natural lighting into the room. 

“What the fuck?” 

“King Philza had been talking about how a windowed room might not be the best option for you, Prince Tommy. He didn’t want you breaking another and rushing outside in a hurry.” 

“There’s not even enough room to fly!” 

The outcry causes Jack to take a glance about the room in silent agreement, the ceiling about half the height of the avian’s original room. Arguably, it has enough room for the prince to be able to fly, but most likely not high enough for him to recklessly propel himself into the air during said flight. “He did mention the possibility of you sharing a room with Prince Wilbur. If you’d like, I could talk to him about arranging that.” 

A grin threatens to make itself known on the knight’s face when Tommy whirls around yet again to face him. “It’s fuckin’ fine, then. Wil would be nothing but a pain in my ass if I had to stay with him.” 

“Well, it’s settled then. I’ll be waiting outside your room while you get comfortable with this one. Everything that was in your previous room is here as well; there’s clothing, snacks, drinks, and just about anything you could ever want. If you need anything, just call for me. 

“And by that, I mean don’t call me at all.” 

Tommy chooses to ignore the angered mutter under the arrogant knight’s breath, the urge to clobber the other to the ground with his wings quickly abandoned in favor of pulling Philza’s cape closer around himself. He hisses to himself over the sheer lack of warmth that used to roam freely through his rooms, the limbs sprouting from his back shaking with grief over the loss of sunlight. 

His bright blue eyes briefly sweep the darkened room with morbid curiosity swirling within them; Jack had been right when he said everything that had been in his room had been transported here, each piece of furniture pressed against the walls and positioned in their typical stance. The only notable difference was his lack of a bed in the room, a massive chest having taken its place against the stone brick walls. 

Instead of a warm bed awaiting his arrival, there now lies a nest of pillows and blankets suspended mid-air, red carpet leading from the doorway up to the comfortable decoration. He’d be lying if he said he hated the idea of sleeping in the air, especially with how getting into it requires him to beat his wings once. 

It lacks ladders connected it to the ground, meaning that only an avian could reach it unless someone brought their own tall object to use to gain access to the nest. 

Tommy snuggles tightly into his father’s cape as well as the nest’s provided blankets, burying him in a cavern of warmth and comfort. It doesn’t stop him from slamming his fist down on a plush white pillow in a clear display over his helpless frustration. The fancy new nest is useless when it comes to distracting him from the reality that there’ll always be someone right outside his door to ensure he doesn’t try and make a break for a door or window. 

Someone who’s a prick and doesn’t know when to shut up. Someone who’ll have to walk him everywhere and anywhere he wants to go within his own home. 

...maybe he really should’ve taken Techno’s challenge to run. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, around 12k words later and we're here! Thank you guys all so much for the support regarding this story, I'm honestly debating whether to respond to your guys's comments, even if it does mess with the comment ratio.
> 
> Sending you all tons of love, and I hope that everyone has a lovely day.
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy Chapter 5!

It’d been a week since he’d returned safely to the binding walls of the castle, his arrogant of a personal guard following him wherever he had wanted to go as though he was a loyal dog. There’d been more than a handful of times where the two had gotten into petty fights that Wilbur and Techno had to break apart; much to Tommy’s disliking, the fights had always been swept under the rug before Philza could catch wind of such things happening. 

Wilbur had been the first to berate him for his terrible manners whenever he was around Jack, but the avian prince can’t find himself giving more than a single fuck over his poetic brother’s rants nowadays. There’s no way he’s listening intently to someone who’d given a twenty-minute presentation on the nutritious value of sand a few days ago. 

Besides, Tommy can’t blame his older brother for being such an ignorant prick; Jack always made sure that he appeared like a guardian angel whenever in the company of another royal family member. Sure, he still held his confidently cocky stance, but he’d learned rather quickly who he had to hold his tongue around. 

Techno would be expressing a neutral opinion on the guard, though the avian prince had made sure to complain loudly near the Blood God, not wanting his eldest brother to side with the man. He lost any sort of respect for Jack the moment the knight suggested that he be allowed two-hour breaks whenever he deemed Tommy to be taking too much of a toll on his mental state. 

Often enough, the responsibility of the youngest prince’s safety would then be handed off to the piglin hybrid, something Techno had never once shared a complaint about. However, it did mean that he got to hear each rant Tommy had regarding the personal guard. 

It’s truly a miracle how Jack hadn’t died under the sheer fierce gaze of the Blood God. 

Whenever Philza and Techno had been deemed too busy with kingdom plans, the young avian would find himself spending time with Wilbur and helping him develop songs to help the older attract ladies. It was always enchanting to listen to each strum of the wooden instrument, the chords blending perfectly in a harmonious tune. It’s a shame that the meaning behind his latest forming song is over having too many fair maidens to pick from rather than something more interesting. 

In the teenager’s opinion, the only thing that matters in life is being able to stretch his wings in the childish playfulness of the wind. 

Speaking of which... 

“Jack.” 

“Yes, Your Highness?” 

“We should go see Phil.” 

Tommy swiftly hides the triumph ricocheting throughout his figure when he notices Jack’s posture immediately crash with pure relief, exhaustion having slowed down the knight’s steps. The energetic teenager had been sure to ask to go just about everywhere in the castle today, an elaborate piece in the prince’s master plan to handle what was yet to come to the following morning. 

The morning when he could finally see Tubbo again. 

Despite the new company and fresh arguments Jack had dragged into his luxurious life, he’s recently found himself rather bored within the winding halls of the castle. Having noticed this, his siblings had grown more open to including Tommy in their own hobbies, a few of which he’d readily agreed to participate in but never provided a sufficient enough distraction when compared to his newest and most favorable hobby yet; devising a plan to flee to the sky and meeting up with Tubbo weekly before returning to the castle before word of his escape could get out. 

As much as Tommy despised admitting to it, Jack had been right when he said he made his entire family worried sick when he took off into the sky and disappeared for a few hours. So, he’d taken extra time out of his day to form a proper plan that’d leave his father clueless of his momentary disappearance as well as enable the avian to explore the forest with company. 

“I think that’s a great idea,” Jack agrees as he continues guiding the duo through the halls; the avian had given up on attempting to walk in front of the knight ever since he began pulling the golden wings backward with his rough leather gloves. 

The first time it happened, their once verbal fight had turned physical; it had been one that took both Wilbur and Techno to break up. 

“Any specific reason why?” 

The question nearly causes Tommy to stop in his tracks, a look of bewildered confusion crossing his face. “Why would I tell you, prick?” 

“Morbid curiosity?” the knight tries with a hopeful look sparking within his gaze. The flame quickly dies out when a mocking laugh is promptly thrown at his face in response. 

“Maybe you can get Phil to tell you after your long-ass cat nap.” 

“Long ass cat-? Hey, I do not take cat naps! It’s called getting sleep after watching a child wander around a castle as though he’s lost.” 

“I am not a child!” Tommy finds himself shouting his words toward the knight in front of him, not daring to continue the argument as the duo stroll down the never-ending castle halls. His wings twitch impatiently behind him as he glares down at Jack, only ever so often glancing around to catch a glimpse of the décor lining the halls. He isn’t going to let the knight sour his excited mood; he’d organized his schedule for tonight perfectly, including his own plan to ensure that his guard doesn’t attempt to get in his way. 

Now there’s only one thing that stands in his way of meeting back up with Tubbo. 

The door to Philza’s room doesn’t arrive fast enough within his vision, the young prince swinging open the signature intricate door belonging to the king as soon as he's close enough to it. His hands shove aside Jack with newfound energy, slipping into the room before the knight can announce the avian’s arrival. “You’re dismissed, Jack!” 

“Only King Philza can dismiss me,” Jack protests, hands swiping furiously through his now-ruffled hair from being shoved aside by the taller. A glare naturally fixates itself on Tommy’s gleaming golden wings, though it quickly turns into a nervous stare when he catches sight of Techno gazing ominously into his soul. 

He’d nearly forgotten that the eldest prince had taken it upon himself to become Philza’s unofficial guard. 

“Good evening, Your Highness,” the knight addresses the eldest before catching sight of the king’s dark grey wings hovering over his hunched body that’s crowded near a bookshelf. He can identify the man rummaging through each leathered book with interest. “And good evening, Your Majesty!” 

“Hey, mate!” Philza greets as he stoops lower to the floor to grasp at a few books located on the bottom shelf. “Has Tommy come to visit?” 

“I’m right fuckin’ here, y’know,” said prince grunts from beside his eldest brother, his gaze faking offense over not having received a greeting of his own. 

“He requested that he spend a few hours with you if you’re alright with that,” Jack carefully announces to the eldest members of the royal family, careful to ensure that his words aren’t interrupted by Tommy. He hesitates when Philza stiffens over the request, Techno’s masked face looking rather conflicted as well despite most of it being covered by the boar skull. “We could talk with Prince Wilbur instead if you’d like, Your Majesty-” 

“It’s alright,” the king quickly soothes before rising properly to his feet, three wide books tucked neatly in his grasp. He takes his time walking back to the sleek black table both Tommy and Techno are crowding around, settling beside them with a calm expression on his face. “Go get some sleep, mate. You’ve got bags under your eyes.” 

“So do you, Phil,” Techno chimes in despite the comment having been aimed toward the avian prince’s knight, “But I can’t blame him. I’d have bags twice his if I had to watch over this gremlin 24/7.” 

“You’ll shut the fuck up if you know what’s good for you,” Tommy snaps back in response, lightly punching the piglin hybrid’s shoulder. 

“Hey! You’ll rip the cape again,” fake concern carefully leaks itself into his monotone voice, an emotion that the avian rather quickly seems to mistake for being a legitimate concern. The blonde appears to revoke his hand as though he’d be burned, Techno’s ears flattening slightly over the reaction. It’s clear that the blonde wants to immediately change the subject, his voice piping up to cover up the awkward silence the trio’s currently suffocating in. 

“So, what are you guys working on?” 

Of course, it’s a topic neither the Blood God nor the king wants to discuss. 

Philza offers his eldest son a relaxed smile as he places the books delicately on top of the table before gesturing toward them. The younger avian is able to catch a glimpse of the word ‘MAPS’ spelled out in gold lettering on all three of the leather bindings. “Just some border establishments that we’re reviewing. We were hoping to change patrol patterns along our northern border to make sure that the kingdom’s defense is remaining strong.” 

Techno’s rather quick to nod in agreement with their father’s informative statement, a glance toward the door ensuring that Jack had left before he removes the boar mask to properly indulge in conversation with his family. “Maybe even expand our territory just a bit-?” 

“Techno.” 

“What? It’s never too late to expand a few borders here and there. I doubt he’d put up a fight against losing a few meters of territory.” 

“I’d much rather not anger the cunt over a few chunks of land,” Philza tiredly responds as though he’d been repeating the statement the entire day. His grey wings twitching only reiterate Tommy’s belief that Techno had been pushing the idea forward ever since breakfast. “I’d beat your ass if you landed us in a war because of it.” 

“Wait, a war with who?” 

The king's wings ruffle instinctively to display his discomfort over the topic, blue gaze never leaving the leather casing of the top book. He only relaxes when Techno clears his throat to declare he’d be addressing the subject. 

“Uh, with Schlatt.” 

“Oh.” 

Tommy can feel the awkwardness yet again flood the silent room over the mention of the ambitious king. A furious sorrow swipes fiercely at his brain for blatantly causing the mention of the man, instinctually shrugging it off as though he isn’t still experiencing nightmares over the death of his friend, Grian. “Why not let the bitch rage about some trees? He’s going to fight anyway, why not make it seem like a pitiful fight on the prick’s part?” 

“See, Phil?” the piglin hybrid gestures dramatically toward his younger sibling, choosing to ignore the eye roll he receives from the king. 

“I am not fighting two children over this,” Philza laughs, a hand extending to ruffle mindlessly at Tommy’s hair when the prince begins to complain over him not being a child for the second time within the hour. “For all we know, he could be waiting for a reason to start a war.” 

“We’ll give him hell, Phil!” both princes declare in unison, the youngest’s bright blue gaze blazing with fierce confidence. 

“Goddamnit, you two. And stop giving him ideas, Techno! He’s a gremlin already, he doesn’t need to be an arsonist gremlin as well.” 

The piglin hybrid’s quick to object against the proclaimed statement. “That’s something unfixable; it’s a natural trait that we all develop after being adopted by you.” 

“Can we go to the garden and pick flowers, Phil?” 

Tommy doesn’t comment on the audible ‘heh’ his question receives from the piglin hybrid, focusing solely on the bewildered gaze of his father. His timing for asking such a harmless question could’ve been better, to be honest, but he only has so much time if he wants his plan to be executed perfectly. 

“The garden?” Philza repeats as though he hadn’t heard his youngest son right; to be fair, he still doesn’t think he heard him right despite the reassuring nod he receives from the avian. He’s heard Tommy rant about being bored in the castle, but most of the time it’s because he wants an excuse to drag Techno off to spar with him. 

It’s been years since the younger avian last asked him to walk the castle gardens... 

“Yeah, the garden,” the young prince verbally confirms with casual undertones lining his voice as if the answer truly didn’t matter to him. The apologetic look conquering his father’s face is all it takes for his wings to start drooping before he can stop them, knowing that the man’s preparing to gently set down his request. 

He can’t blame his father; the young avian did attempt to flee the castle as soon as he was given even a sliver of opportunity to venture outside. 

“Mate, I’d love to, but-” 

“Don’t be like that, Phil,” Techno finds himself interrupting the man’s denial of his son’s request, earning a surprised look from his younger brother. “We’ll finish talking about the patrols later, you should really take Tommy to get some sunlight; it’ll be good for the both of you.” 

Hope ripples throughout the young avian’s posture over the fact that Philza could never say no to such a statement from Techno, especially with how his brother’s already at the room’s exit. 

“Techno! You can’t just-!” Philza begins to call out, his eyebrows furrowing with a frustrated sigh accompanying the movement when he’s flipped off before the hybrid disappears entirely from his sightline. “Goddamn that cunt.” 

“So...is that a yes?” 

Tommy’s nearly bouncing on his toes in childish excitement as he drags out the ‘o’ in ‘so’. 

“Fine, but no funny business,” the king orders, a serious expression being displayed on his face. “I mean it, Tommy.” 

“Ay, prick!” said prince cries out in protest, clearly offended by the insinuation of his father’s words. “I’d never partake in any of this fuckin’ funny business!” 

“Very convincing,” Philza responds with his arms crossed; the golden-winged avian could’ve sworn he’s able to catch a hint of amusement glittering in those blue eyes. 

“Alright, old man. I won’t pull anything on you.” 

A tired smile appears on his father’s face at the promise, a ‘thank you’ quickly accompanied by a gesture being made eagerly toward the door. “Don’t tell Techno but I’ve been dying to get outside all day. We’d made a bet that the first to walk out of the room gets to fetch Wilbur from his room for dinner.” 

Tommy finds himself standing dumbfounded by the new information being handed to him, irritation beginning to spark within his gaze. Making miniature bets within the family is a normal occurrence, but this is one that causes his feathers to puff up slightly in frustration. 

Techno walking out of the room first meant that his eldest brother, the same brother he ranted his complaints to, would be receiving quite the ear-full from their gossip of a brother. What serves the purpose of two keen ears if their eardrums burst from Wilbur yelling? 

“Be glad he took one for the team, he won’t be able to hear for weeks,” a laugh draws itself from Tommy’s lips, his wings fluttering with excitement when he hears the distinctive rumble of laughter stemming from Philza. “Race you to the castle doors?” 

“Mate, I’m old,” the king begins to object as he walks beside his son. He watches as the younger begins to huff and divert his gaze toward the stone wall before he suddenly flings his dark grey wings to the side, promptly smacking the prince gently into the wall. He doesn’t waste time breaking into a sprint down the hall, mischief flashing through his exhausted eyes. 

“Old enough to beat your ass!” 

“What the FUCK!” Tommy curses as his head spins from being clobbered rather violently by a flash of grey feathers. The swirl of dizziness fogging his mind is brushed off with a competitive growl, taking off after his father without caring much for how loud his shoes smacked against the floors. “You fuckin’ wish, old man!” 

“I don’t have to wish! I’m already doing it!” 

A genuine laughing fit shares itself between the two royal avians, both their wings wrapped tightly together in order to keep themselves from producing unnecessary drag on themselves. It’s a miracle how the duo manages to make it to the castle’s backdoors without running into anyone, both Tommy and Philza bending over as their lungs gasp desperately for any molecule of oxygen that wandered too close to their throats. 

The sheer amount of laughter and glee bubbling through the air doesn’t help their rushed breaths either, Tommy still attempting to yell curses at his father for daring to beat him to the door before his yells turn into more fits of laughter. 

It takes a few minutes for the two to recompose themselves in front of the door’s guards, neither avian minding whether they were being silently judged for their childish antics or not. Either way, the guards nonchalantly push the double doors open with ease, enabling them to venture into the evening air. 

The average viewer could’ve guessed that Philza has an indifferent opinion on the atmosphere had it not been for his dark wings spreading to bathe in the dying sunlight. His posture turns even more relaxed as he breaths in the atmosphere with ease. 

However, Tommy doesn’t have quite the same reaction. 

While the king does well as keeping himself composed after being cooped up inside for so long, the avian prince finds himself melting into the cooling touch of the evening air, desperately drinking in every ray of light as though he’d been stranded in a desert for days on end without a single drop of water. 

His eyes will themselves closed as his fingers grasp mindlessly at the refreshing temperature, a smile lighting his face when the familiar brush of wind bundles gleefully into his blonde locks of hair. 

The scent of the earth hitting his nose almost snaps his mental state in half, the urge to take off rising inside him as though it was lava to an erupting volcano. It’s only his father’s concerned voice that forces him from the mindset that it’d be so easy to simply take off into the blue sky. 

“Mate, you good?” 

Tommy’s gaze snaps open to meet his father’s, an awkward cough darting itself from his lungs as he gives a nod. “Yeah, I’ve just missed this.” 

The older avian responds with a nod of his own, understanding and sympathy flooding his gaze. “It feels like ages since either one of us got some fresh air,” he agrees, a grey wing brushing against his son’s golden limbs as they begin to walk deeper into the garden. 

The feeling of sheer nostalgia floods both of them as they gaze upon the massive flower beds crashing with vibrate arrays of color. The ocean of color appears to extend for kilometers, Tommy not able to see the end of it. There are a few divots in the ground he can see, however, spots where white benches sat patiently in wait for someone to take their seat down on them. 

“Do you remember when I used to shield you from the sunlight and rain when you were younger?” 

“Christ, Phil, it’s not like I was six and too young to remember,” the young prince reminds dramatically, though his hands still find themselves grasping at his father’s right-wing and placing it just barely above the taller’s head. He silently notes how the action causes his father to momentarily rise onto his toes before he resettles back on the ground normally, allowing a soft chuckle to escape his mouth. 

“I thought it’d be one of those memories you’d forget about as time went on; like taking all those speech lessons a few years back.” 

Tommy nearly stops walking as the realization that he had indeed taken lessons on making speeches during the first few months of being crowned prince. He knows his tutor hadn’t been the best but has his mind truly been blocking out the memory without even realizing it? 

_Point proven._

“Alright, I get it. Now help me pick these goddamn flowers.” 

“Well, which flowers did you want to gather, mate?” Philza asks as his free wing begins to nudge at a patch of bright pink roses. “Ones for decoration? Romantic ones?” 

A sour expression of disgust makes its way onto Tommy’s face over his father’s implication. “Fuckin stop that. I mean, sure, there’s totally a shit ton of women who’d love some roses from me, but these are just for décor. I wanted to keep a vase of tulips in my room.” 

“Tulips?” 

The younger avian hesitates as the soft repetition of his words falling from his father’s mouth, daring to glance down at the older to ensure he hadn’t accidentally triggered something within the other. He’d been able to identify longing darkly outlining the word, a sorrowful smile etching itself onto the king’s face. “Is that alright, Phil?” 

He knows Tubbo loves tulips, but he can always just find a different flower for the ram hybrid. He seemed fascinated with any sort of flower so maybe he could find a cornflower- 

“Of course, mate. Sorry, I was just caught off guard by your interest in tulips. It’s been...years since someone asked me about them. You know, I could’ve sworn you were talking about being too manly for flowers just the other day.” 

“I am manly!” Tommy swiftly declares with a touch of frustration dancing within his words. “Very masculine indeed.” 

“Well, if these aren’t romantic-” 

“If I want a vase of flowers, I want a vase of flowers!” he cries out in the hopes that it’d cause the other to drop the subject before he can dig too deep into it. Relief soothes his feathers when Philza lets out an amused laugh, the man obviously having just been attempting to tease his youngest son a touch. “Can we please just pick the goddamn flowers?” 

“If you say so.” 

And thus begins the methodic picking of specific patches of flowers, the two making their way down countless stone archways and paths to pick out only what they could consider being the best of the bunch. His father gleefully provides assistance where it’s asked, helpfully supplying the date of when each flower had been planted without a hint of hesitance within his voice. 

It seems to be just by luck that his father only appeared to pay attention to the planting and facts of tulips, the man not having been able to tell much over the peonies they pass nor the dandelions waiting nearby. 

The duo mindlessly picks at each desired flower they can find, each plant delicately being placed into Tommy’s awaiting arms before they move onto the next patch. It isn’t until the youngest prince finds his entire chest covered entirely with flowers that they both agree it’s enough to start heading back inside, the last rays of sunlight dipping past the shadows of the castle’s surrounding mountains. 

The calm breeze sweeping between the two smiling avians carries the excited laughs of each other through the air, the king looking much more refreshed sitting in the night air and basking in the rising moonlight. The young prince feels rather refreshed as well, though his mind remains fixated on the fact that this trip outside will feel like nothing when placed into the comparison of flying to meet up with Tubbo in the forest. 

Tommy talks mindlessly as the two venture back toward the king’s room, one of Philza’s wings hovering protectively around his son to help keep the flowers from falling out of the other’s arms. He’s silently thankful for his father’s movement, becoming even more thankful when he catches a glimpse of Techno sitting at the doorway with an empty basket being offered his way. 

The tulips are cautiously settled into the awaiting basket almost immediately, a soft ‘thank you’ being uttered toward the piglin hybrid accompanied by a smile. The joyous moment doesn’t last much longer after the basket remains within Tommy’s hands, the confident footsteps of Jack approaching the trio distracting them from diving into a teasing conversation over the purpose of the flowers. 

“Apologies for interrupting Your Majesty and Your Highnesses,” the knight begins with a bow that, in the young prince’s opinion, lasts just a touch too long. When the man straightens his posture back to display his full height, he pulls his leather gloves further down his arms as though they’d been slipping off his hands. “I see you enjoyed a visit to the garden!” 

“We did,” Philza confirms with a tight smile, having immediately noticed how Tommy sagged at the appearance of his royal guard. “Tommy, did you want to head to your room or stay up a bit longer with us?” 

Admittedly, the younger avian brightens at the offer despite knowing that he had to decline it. He still had to go over his escape plans to ensure that he’d be able to return to the castle safely without anything being amiss. 

“I’d love to, but the bastard would be on my ass all night if I made him stay up late. He’ll call me a child, but it’s not me who needs fuckin’ eight hours of sleep.” 

“Your Highness, I do not need eight hours of sleep.” 

Surprise riots throughout Jack’s features when he notices Techno nod in agreement with the knight’s statement, triumph beginning to ignite within his gaze over gaining the side of the Blood God himself. 

“He’s right. He needs ten including all the naps he takes in the middle of the day.” 

Tommy can’t help himself as he doubles over in laughter at the monotone yet snarky response, nearly missing the embarrassment that causes his guard’s movements to turn rigid. Even Philza remains cracking up in laughter, trying his hardest to stop himself from looking as though he’s encouraging his children’s behavior. 

“Good night, Tech and Phil! I’ll see you ugly bastards in the morning?” 

The addressed royal family members routinely respond with a nod, Techno offering both a short wave as well as a gaze resembling something close to concern for the younger. 

Come to think of it, it kind of looks more like a ‘Be safe or I’ll kick your ass’ look. 

It’s a look that Tommy naturally returns with his own that reads, ‘I’ll be fuckin’ safe, Techno-Ass' before he whisks both himself and Jack away before Techno’s ability to silently retort toward the childish name-calling. 

He doesn’t complain as his knight begins to guide him through the halls and back to his own room, earning himself a few suspicious glances from the other. He can’t blame the other; it’s not unusual for him to put up a fight and suddenly demand that he be paraded to the kitchen to grab a snack. Tonight’s different, though. 

Tommy knows he won’t be able to sneak out of his room without getting caught by Jack; he can still vividly recall the night he had attempted to sneak out to hang out with Wilbur in the middle of the night. The door directly across from his had opened the second he opened his own, effectively startling the avian and earning himself a screaming-match between him and the knight. 

Thanks to that night, he was able to get a firsthand experience of what a truly pissed-off Jack looks like. Does he regret doing it? 

Not in the slightest. Especially after he learned that it forced the other to stay awake for the rest of the night. 

Jack doesn’t comment further on the basket of flowers Tommy protectively takes into his room, the brunette filing in behind the prince just as he’s done for the past week whenever he’d announce that he’d be retiring to his room for the night. His arms cross as he stands impatiently by the door, watching as the other places the basket of flowers on top of a chair right beside a dark oak table with a red cape that had been laid neatly on top of it. 

The article of clothing looks quite similar to the Blood God’s- 

The knight’s eyebrows furrow slightly as an attempt to recall whether Techno had his cape on during the few interactions he had with the other or not. He’s grown so used to see the red fabric pair with his blood-thirsty eyes that perhaps it had been a detail he accidentally overlooked. The iconic sight of his boar mask and golden crown remains fresh in his mind, though he’s never seen the piglin hybrid without them. 

Tommy hesitates to put the given cape on, fingers gently smoothing the fabric out against the table before glancing toward Jack. He doesn’t want to accidentally rip the article of clothing just in case he gets into a scuffle with the other, lungs drawing a deep breath before his mouth opens to request something from the knight. “Jack, could you come here for a second?” 

The brunette suppresses a yawn at the prince’s request, annoyance igniting within his gaze over the question. “Yeah, Prince Tommy?” 

“I need you to tell Phil I’m feeling sick tomorrow if he asks why I’m not at breakfast.” 

Jack pauses over the strange request, confusion carving itself into his facial features. “But, why-?” 

“It doesn’t fuckin’ matter why; I just need you to do it.” 

Fury radiates off both persons over the current situation going down, the two radiating off the other’s anger and stubbornness. 

“Absolutely not,” Jack snaps in a tone that insists that he will not be completing the odd request. “You’re not pulling any of this bs as long as I’m around. You either give me a reason or it doesn’t happen.” 

The young avian’s fist begins to ball up as he mauls over the conditions being presented to him, his head tilting curiously. “I have some out-of-the-castle duties to attend to tomorrow morning.” 

“Out of the castle-? But you can’t, King Philza made it clear that you were not to go outside the castle, let alone the castle walls,” Jack protests, naturally falling into a defensive stance. 

“Jack, I’m leaving this castle whether you fuckin’ agree to do it or not. I’ll be back before noon, but I need you to be able to give the excuse for my absence during breakfast.” 

“No way in hell I’m lying to them about something like that. It’s dangerous to go outside, and don’t you remember what I told you earlier? Your disappearance is going to scare everyone half to death!” 

“God, stop sounding like Phil, you prick,” Tommy bitterly snaps as his golden feathers ruffle in annoyance. “Listen, you’re already on pretty thin ice with Phil, and tonight just proved my point over it. What do you think will happen if it gets out that you failed to keep me protected in my room at night? Perhaps you’ll be fired on the spot? Maybe stripped off all your rankings?” 

A ghost of a triumphant smile flickers onto the prince’s face over the look of fear flashing momentarily across the other’s face. “I already arranged plans on how to get out and back inside without getting caught, I just need you to stay in your room until I can get back.” 

Silence floods the windowless room as Tommy waits for a response, nearly bouncing on his toes in sheer anticipation. He knows he’s got the other cornered option-wise; Jack takes pride in everything he’s done and most definitely won’t want his rankings revoked just because a selfish prince wanted to sneak out. 

The knight's gaze turns distant while he grows lost in thought, an unreadable expression conquering his face as his eyebrows remain knitted downward. 

“Fine.” 

“Wait, really?” 

“I cannot believe I’m agreeing to this shit,” Jack mutters under his breath, a hand pressing itself into his forehead. “You better not get yourself caught. I’m cutting off your wings if you do.” 

Tommy forces himself not to turn nervous over the threat, his limbs instinctively moving closer to one another and away from Jack. “It’ll be fine,” he reassures, drawing out each vowel in his sentence. 

“Go do your shit, then.” 

“Fuck yeah!” 

Raw excitement rumbles deep within the avian’s chest when Jack briskly leaves his room, slamming the door shut behind him and leaving the prince to begin to prepare for the next morning. 

He mindlessly peels off the white and yellow shirt he’d been wearing in favor of picking out his iconic red and white t-shirt, his light brown shorts left on as he bounds back toward the dark oak table holding his eldest brother’s gift. He knows he’ll have to return the piece of clothing in the morning, but until then, it’s a gift from one of the Gods. The cape is scooped up with the utmost care, a knowing smirk lighting his face while his fingers trace at the note settled beside it, delicate cursive writing filling the yellow sheet of parchment. 

_We both know how stupid your plan is, Tommy, I’m not a moron. But that also means that I’m smart enough to know that I can’t talk you out of it. If you’re not back by noon, I’m dragging your ass back to the castle myself and I’m never letting you leave again. This shit is serious; we’re growing closer to the brink of war and Phil would much rather be caught up in that rather than configure funeral plans for you. I don’t believe you're defenseless, but you’re reckless, and that’s something that’ll get you into trouble._

_P.S There’s a dagger located in your wardrobe’s second drawer. Take it, just in case you and Tubbo get into more mischief than planned. And for the love of God, try not to ruin the cape again; Michelle nearly took my ears for asking her to re-stitch it._

_Best regards,_

_The Blood God_

Tommy finds a smile replacing his smirk as he tucks the note into his pocket, swiftly clipping the cape onto his back despite the drag it produces on his wings. He doesn’t mind the slightly uncomfortable feeling created, choosing to move toward a plated candle whose light remains flickering despite the still air. 

He cautiously grasps the metal plate before bringing it to the dark oak table that Techno had once draped his cape on. The table’s drawer opens hesitantly before a few heavy screws are picked out, each one digging itself deep into the unburnt wax about an inch below the current flame of the candle. He knows that it’d be best for him to sleep the next few hours off to physically prepare his wings for the round trip through the forest and back. 

A touch of regret for falling asleep not even thirty minutes after Techno interrupted his meeting with Tubbo leaves him mindlessly walking across his room to fetch the dagger said sibling had left for him, barely paying enough attention to keep himself from picking up the dagger by its blade. 

The silver blade glints in the candlelight illuminating the room, though his mind doesn’t pay much attention to the detail of the craftsmanship as he places it beside the candle on the table, Tommy’s wings spreading as he boosts himself into his nest of blankets awaiting him from the ceiling. He shuffles both his wings and the cape around himself, encasing himself within a relaxing cocoon of warmth that chases away the rushing energy threatening to keep him awake and alert. 

With a hum of satisfaction, he allows himself to go limp in the fog of silence, his mind silently repeating his temporary escape plan as drowsiness takes over. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

The startling sound of metal scraping harshly against the metal draws the prince awake in an instant, the noise causing his wings to flutter subconsciously in sudden excitement. His eye dares to open, throwing himself across his nest to catch a peek of the candle awaiting innocently on the dark oak table he last left it on. 

Tommy drops from the pile of comforting blankets to the ground immediately, quickly restraining himself from beating his wings when he feels the soft fabric of Techno’s cape tighten itself around his form. He can’t believe he’s actually about to go through with this plan and not fear the look of disappointment from Philza. Finally, after spending a week locked away inside a castle and isolated from the atmosphere, he’s being given the chance to stretch his wings for flight. 

He’d be able to feel the wind run between his feathers as he bathes in the cool touch of moonlight. Come to think of it, he can’t even recall the last time he went for a night fly in general... 

A shake of his head stirs that avian prince from his thoughts, gently providing a reminder over the list of things to do before he can leave the castle. Quick strides lead him back to his wardrobe, his fingers grasping a leather scabbard hanging from a hanger before he slips the elegant dagger Techno had gifted him into its proper slot. The item is clipped to his shorts without a second thought; he’ll have to place it in the basket once he takes flight, but that’s something he’ll be able to remind himself with ease and complete effortlessly. 

Speaking of which, he turns his attention onto the basket filled with an array of colored tulips, a light blanket grasped before it’s thrown on top of the delicate petals. He ties the fabric at the bottom to ensure the flowers wouldn’t be able to make their escape during the flight. He has to ensure the survival of each and every petal; it won’t do even if he’s missing a single tulip for his friend. 

Tommy loops the basket over his right arm when he declares the blanket is secure enough, turning toward a full-length mirror in order to double-check that he’s completely prepared for the upcoming hangout. 

His white t-shirt trimmed with red is complimented well with the light brown shorts he wears, Techno’s dark red cape soothing any concern of the early morning air being too cold for him. His gaze notices how the clothing drags slightly on the ground; it’s a price his eldest brother has to pay for being taller than the younger prince. 

His golden wings are tucked neatly inside of the cape, perfectly hidden from view even as he spins in place, allowing the cape the sway in response to the sudden movement. He doesn’t necessarily enjoy the thought of keeping his hybrid characteristics from Tubbo, especially when the other had been so open about being one himself, but he’d hate to accidentally get them into trouble if his wings gave away his royal status. 

It’s safe to assume that keeping his wings a secret makes everything...easier. 

“Looking good,” Tommy murmurs under his breath as he takes his final glances in the mirror, winking at himself before making his way toward his room’s door. He hesitates briefly when cracking it open reveals the entrance to Jack’s room wide open as though it’d been expecting him to visit. 

The avian prince ventures from his room into his personal guard’s, eyes narrowing when his gaze meets his knight’s opened and alert gaze despite the man sitting rather comfortably within his own bed. He looks as though his eye bags had gotten ten times worse than they originally were. “I see someone didn’t get their beauty sleep.” 

“I was waiting to make sure you left at the right time of night.” 

Tommy’s movement to fake a thankful expression turns sour when his gaze catches sight of a minuscule window sitting beside Jack’s bed. Jealousy embeds itself deep within his chest over the sight, never having been in his room before and therefore never having noticed how close even just the feeling moonlight casting its light onto his wings had been. 

It seemed to have always been an unspoken rule between the two that Jack was entitled to his own private space that the avian had silently vowed never to set foot within. That is, not until now. 

His bright blue eyes spark with excitement when he follows the angle of the moonlight, enabling him to properly judge that the moon’s nearly halfway complete with its cycle across the sky. It has just enough time for Tommy to be able to make it miles away from the castle before the sun even attempts to rise over the surrounding mountains. 

“You’re never going to tell me where you’re going, are you?” Jack asks as he turns to grasp at a minuscule book laying on his nightstand. He finds genuine surprise rushing into his mind when the prince doesn’t immediately turn away to dart through the halls. 

“As I said, it’s my own goddamn business. Keep your snotty ass nose out of my business and I’ll stay out of yours.” 

Of course, just when he thought he was about to get an explanation he instead receives a spitting threat to his face. 

“Goodbye, Tommy.” 

The prince is gone within an instant at the tired dismissal, not feeling in the mood to argue over being addressed without his ‘Prince’ title nor did he feel in the mood to shout over being dismissed. Instead, he allows the anger to flow through his hands, grip nearly crushing the basket’s handle as he strolls down the empty hallways of the castle. He’s careful not to make a sound throughout his journey, surveying each corner before continuing his stroll toward the familiar sight of two massive french doors facing each other on separate sides of the hallway. 

He dares a risky glance toward the door on his left before immediately pushing open the one to his right, slipping inside the darkened room before gently closing it behind him. 

“Going somewhere?” 

Tommy's heart plummets at the smug voice swirling throughout the crisp room, able to identify the voice within a moment’s notice. There’s too much emotion for it to have belonged to his eldest brother, the person he’d managed to convince to allow him to use his room’s balcony to take to the stars. Instead, it’s his poetic one that sits patiently on a portion of finely picked-out rugs. He swallows audibly as he meets the knowing brown eyes of Wilbur, forcing himself to cross his arms as though he’s unaffected by the other’s surprise visit. 

God is it rather intimidating the way he so carefully turns the instrument’s strings as though it’s taking everything inside him not to break one of them. 

“What’s it to you?” 

“I already told him, Tommy.” 

The youngest of the trio allows himself to whirl to his left at the monotone voice of his eldest sibling, fury darting into his gaze to disguise his fear that his siblings were about to spoil his plan to sneak out. “What the fuck, Techno! I thought you said I could go!” 

“You can,” Wilbur drawls as he lifts himself from the floor, the wooden instrument fastened in his grasp. “I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t being kept out of the loop.” 

“You’re such a fuckin’ gossip,” the mutter flings itself from Tommy’s mouth before he could stop it, a few steps taking his deeper inside his eldest brother’s room. 

“You made sure to keep the dagger I gave you, right?” Techno asks offhandedly before his sibling can get too close to the balcony doors. 

“It was written on the note, of course, I have it.” 

The sheathed dagger is even unclipped from his shorts and waved in the air to prove his statement before its placed neatly inside the flower basket. “I’ve been preparing this for weeks; I have everything I need to get ready.” 

Tommy’s wings tense slightly when he hears the sharp inhale stemming from Wilbur, the taller prince striding up to his younger brother with mock disappointment flickering in his gaze. 

“What? Did I forget to take a shit in your shoes?” 

“No, you prick,” the older laughs before outstretching his arms, pulling the other into his grasp in a tight hug. “You forgot to give me a hug.” 

“Fuck off, Wil!” Tommy shouts as his cheek flushes red with embarrassment; he can’t stop himself from clawing at the scrawny arms currently holding him hostage. “Techno, help me!” 

The sound of Techno chuckling causes his struggles to decrease in intensity, a look of defeat crossing his face when he feels the tallest of the trio encase the two in a bone-crushing hug of his own. He can always count on the piglin hybrid to ensure his ribs get crushed every once in a while. 

“Back before noon, got that?” Wilbur murmurs before the taller siblings finally freeing their little brother. “We both agreed to hold Phil off till then.” 

“Big T caught you up to date with the excuse?” 

“Tommy’s throat is, quote, ‘Hurting like a bitch’,” the older recites as though he’d known the excuse his entire life. 

“Good shit,” the avian prince laughs, eyes sparkling with excitement as a hand unclasps Techno’s cape from around his shoulders. The article of clothing is then placed delicately on top of the blanketed flowers as though the cloth was a tulip that he’s tucking back into place. “I’ll see you guys at lunch, then?” 

The blonde doesn’t wait for a response before he pushes open the balcony doors, the rush of cold air causing adrenaline to sprint through his veins. The breeze snaps lightly at his face before ruffling itself through his once neatly combed hair; it helps to return the locks of hair to their natural wild look. 

A pitiful glance is given toward the tucked away cape radiating warmth, a voice mentally longing for him to slip the comforting thing on to protect him from the night air. The only thing stopping him from giving in to the demands is the knowledge that the cloth could entangle itself within his golden feathers. 

Tommy’s wings spread gracefully after he ensures for the second time that he isn’t missing anything, shooting himself straight into the air with a silent laugh of excitement. He doesn’t stop raising himself into the night sky until he’s certain that he looks like a disfigured bird wandering the sky, his voice raw from the lack of oxygen stating just how far up he’d pushed himself into the atmosphere. 

His blue gaze instantly draws himself to the sky, slightly blurred vision picking out a twinkling star shining down on him. He can proudly identify the star as the North Star. 

He’ll have to tell Philza that he had indeed remembered the astrology lessons he took a few years ago as well. 

Drawing himself back into reality, he begins to think back to the morning he had sprinted through his glass window. Whether he’d realized it at the time or not, he’d flown the opposite direction of the nearest town, which was located south of the castle grounds. The choice had most definitely made it more difficult for his movements to be tracked by his father, cowering away in the very town he’d hid in when he first ran away from the castle wouldn’t have been the most ideal move. 

Tommy finds a deep breath pressing against his lungs as his wings beat in the direction of the North Star, his elegant wings glinting in the dim moonlight bouncing off of each feather. He could distinctly recall how fast he’d been flying the first time he visited the forest; perhaps leaving this early for the forest had been an even better idea than he had originally thought. 

His thoughts are only confirmed when his flight lasts for what seems like hours before he’s able to even slightly identify bits of the forestry passing below him. 

He gleefully allows his mind to drift off while his wings propel him farther into the starry night, heart fluttering with each gust of wind that twirls playfully with his beating limbs. His hands clutch tightly at his brother’s cape and the basket filled to the brim with tulips, blue eyes yet again blurring over the sheer amount of wind whipping violently past his eyes. 

It isn’t until a droplet of water dabbles on his cheek that the avian realizes his vision isn’t blurring from the strokes of wind nor from the occasional whisp of cloud he’d pass by. 

It’s a tear that's filled with relief and joy, sparks of freedom embedding itself within the cool sensation of the liquid. 

Tommy finds his pace speeding up from pure joy, flinging himself desperately into the air to perform a few loops before continuing his journey toward the North Star. It isn’t until his fourth midair flip that he notices a gleaming white tulip drop flutter itself from the wooden basket, his eyes widening in sudden panic over the idea of losing the flower to the undeserving forestry below. His wings instinctively curl inwards to enable him to drop to the tulip’s level, a hand snatching the delicacy before his golden wings open yet again to keep himself from dipping too far toward the forest. 

“You bastard! Fuckin’ trying to escape me,” he scolds with a joyous laugh, fingers carefully twirling the item in his hands as he allows himself to analyze the surrounding kilometers of trees below him. It’s the dim gleam of water that catches the avian’s attention, swooping back to Earth’s surface and landing gracefully beside the minuscule stream running through a patch of yellow dandelions. A twinge of disappointment threatens to riot through his features of the lack of familiarity of the area, his leather boot kicking aside the water as though it was to push away his negative thoughts. 

Within an instant, the disappointment dissipates into thin air, satisfaction replacing it when the noise successfully reminds him of how Techno’s horse had trotted through the stream before he had drifted off to sleep. The stream looks just barely wide enough to have caused two hooves to step through it, a match for his recollection of the previous week. 

His head tilts curiously to the right as his gaze locks onto the trees surrounding him; it had been at least sixty oaks with about half that number of massive pine trees in between those, right? 

Tommy gently places the flower basket onto the bed of dandelions with the white tulip remaining in his grasp as his free hand flings Techno’s cape over his wings. The cloth is clasped at his chest in a practiced movement that’s grown all too familiar to him during the past few weeks. 

With the idea of the meeting spot being so close to here, he doesn’t want to risk accidentally revealing his wings to the other if the ram hybrid had decided to arrive so early in the morning as well. 

The avian prince takes his time buckling the scabbard back to his shorts before picking the flower basket back up to continue his journey throughout the forest. His mind pays rapid attention to the number of trees he passes with every few steps to ensure that he isn't getting himself lost within the middle of nowhere. 

It isn’t until he hears the faint rustle of branches that causes his footsteps to abruptly stop, his gaze quickly surveying his brightening surroundings for any trace of movement. The sun’s still battling with the mountains far to the east, but a few rays of sunlight are able to provide sufficient enough light for Tommy to peer into the ahead underbrush. 

“Tubbo?” 

The avian mentally curses himself for the moronic idea to call out for the ram hybrid, his left hand tucking the white tulip behind his ear before he unsheathes Techno’s graceful dagger from the scabbard. When all he receives in response to the name is the rustling of waking trees, he swallows audibly. “I have a fuckin’ knife, don’t try me.” 

Silence once again reclaims the forest after the uttered threat, Tommy cautiously continuing his adventure toward a visible patch of grass that looks all too familiar to him despite this being his second time visiting the spot. 

To be fair, it isn’t that difficult to vividly recall the gorgeous sight when he compares it to the bland stone walls and questionable paintings the castle has to offer. 

His grasp on the dagger never loosens as he settles himself on the calm grass to bathe in the rising sunlight, still remaining weary over his surroundings. The tulip tucked neatly behind his ear never leaves even as the wind begins to offer its hand for a dance with the petals. 

Tommy forces himself not to relax into the warm rays beginning to engulf the forest around him, his fingers twiddling idly with the Blood God’s cape currently shielding his back from the chilling morning air. His tactic to distract himself from boredom swiftly switches to him picking at his nails; it’s truly his own fault for arriving way earlier than he most likely should have. 

Yet to his surprise, cautious yet generous footsteps make themselves known as they approach him from behind. 

“Boo!” 

The avian prince lunges to his feet at the sheer intensity of Tubbo’s yell, a yelp of his own escaping his lips as the cape snags his wings and keeps them from spreading out in a defense-mechanism. A spark of fear violently slams into him when he realizes he isn’t able to properly pick himself up using a flap of his wings, panicking as he rolls onto his back to meet both the bewildered and concerned gaze of the ram hybrid. 

“What the fuck was that for!” Tommy scowls angrily, a piece of his ego beginning to chip itself off over the rush of laughter drawing itself from Tubbo’s lungs. Sure, it was a joyous sound he’d love to laugh along with, but God was it destroying his confidence and replacing it with the burning shame of humiliation. “I could have stabbed you, you know!” 

The laughter dies into a soft giggle over the mocking anger being expressed within the avian’s voice. “What what? Last time I check, you didn’t-” 

Silenced awe fills the atmosphere when those warm brown eyes catch sight of the silver glint of Tommy’s blade, his eyes widening in curiosity. A few pieces at the base of the blade had been carved out, sharp swirling patterns replacing the empty space before flowing into the sharp edge of a blade. Its golden hilt shines merrily in the growing light edging itself throughout the trees. “W-Woah! That’s so cool!” 

The young prince quickly nods in agreement with the other, welcoming the feeling of pride flooding his gaze. “I know right! Big T gave it to me before I left.” 

“Something like this had to have been expensive,” Tubbo can’t help but point out with an attempt of an impressed whistle being made. “Did your brother make it himself?” 

“Some shit like that,” Tommy vaguely responds, shrugging as though to show that he wouldn’t elaborate on the subject of the object’s origins. It isn’t like he knows how the Blood God obtained the dagger anyway. 

“That’s fascinating! I’d ask for a dagger of my own but I don’t think Father would appreciate it very much.” 

The avian prince’s eyebrows furrow slightly at the statement, “Why not? I mean, you’re wandering alone in a fuckin’ forest, wouldn’t he want you to have a defense mechanism?” 

“Uh,” anxiety radiates off the shorter hybrid over the mention of exploring the forest on his own. “My Dad doesn’t actually know I’m out here. He went out last night and came home only a few hours ago so I knew he wouldn’t come looking for me until noon.” 

“That’s good news!” Tommy shouts, his wings twitching underneath his cape with excitement. “I have to be home before noon as well! Big T and Wil only promised to cover for me until then. The pricks are assholes, but I guess it’s a reasonable time.” 

“What a coincidence,” the shorter of the duo laughs as his brown gaze dares to glance around the area. He suddenly straightens from his relaxed posture when he notices something tucked behind Tommy’s ear, eyes widening as he scrambles forward with his hand outstretched. It effectively spooks the avian, his shoulders growing tense yet the defensive stance doesn’t discourage the other from hesitating with his reach for the locks of blonde hair. 

“Tubbo?” 

“You have a tulip!” said hybrid exclaims, fingers finally looping around the white petals before he withdraws from the other with the flower triumphantly his. The floral scent floods his sensitive nose within an instant, energy rippling inside him over the delicate flowers winking up at him. “Where’d you get it?” 

“I noticed you really liked tulips and considering only greedy bastards like tulips, I did some gathering for you. Thought that maybe you’d like to bring them back with you to preserve or do whatever the fuck you want.” 

“Tommy, there’s only a single tulip here-” 

A shit-eating grin conquers Tommy’s expression when he rips the blanket off of the basket before turning it upside down over the other’s head, a sea of colors falling around the other with a few buds landing gracefully on top of the ram hybrid’s short horns. A genuine smile replaces his grin as the shocked expression conquering Tubbo’s face, the brunette appearing nearly blinded by the burst of color filling his vision. 

Tubbo attempts to recover from the gleeful paralyzation he’d momentarily been dragged through, forcing his limbs to flail out in excitement. “Wh-wha-? Tommy! This is brilliant! Where’d you even get them! They don’t naturally grow where I’m from!” 

“Does it truly matter where I fuckin’ got them?” the avian questions with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “They’re yours to take if you’re able to put them all back in the basket.” 

Tommy watches in pure fascination when the ram hybrid immediately sinks to the ground to start shuffling through them; it’s silently noted how a few light pink flowers are left in the grass to the right of the basket, every other colored tulip placed delicately back into the weaved holder. His mouth opens to question the other on whether he despised the color pink before Tubbo appears to beat him to his words. 

“Sit down.” 

The avian prince nearly bursts out in laughter at the commanding voice overtaking the typical generous tone of the short hybrid. “Excuse me?” 

“I said sit down; you’re too tall for me!” 

“Fine, fine. No need to bitch about it,” Tommy grunts as he plops onto the soft grass before awaiting whatever monstrous plan Tubbo’s forming within his mind. His eyes roll at the happy expression he catches present on the other’s face, shaking his head slightly in a twinge of disappointment in himself. 

“I’m thinking maybe we put the pink ones in your hair.” 

Although the ram hybrid’s words feel as though it should be a question calling upon his opinion on the subject, the two both know it’s more of a statement over what's about to happen. The blonde’s getting flowers in his hair no matter if he wants them or not. 

“I think we should get rid of the cape first, though. It’s covering about half the back of your head.” 

Tommy freezes at the implication Tubbo’s calling upon, his movements turning rigid as his wings wrap themselves tighter around his back. “Damn, Tubbo,” he chuckles nervously under his breath, “Take me to dinner first.” 

“C’mon, I’m being serious,” the hybrid complains with a pouting expression. “It’s getting in the way and I want to braid some of your hair too.” 

“I don’t think the cape’s an issue-” 

“What, are you scared it’s going to grow a pair of legs and scurry off?” 

“Me? Scared? That’s rubbish.” 

“Then take it off!” 

“Tubbo, it’s cold outside.” 

The prince finds the excuse slipping from his mouth before he can do anything about it, not wanting to acknowledge the fact that he truly is afraid of what the other’s reaction may be to his wings. 

“The sun’s already in the sky and aimed directly at you, you’ll be fine,” the shorter insists, gently pulling back at the cape. His teasing smile quickly fades into a frown when he notices the other tightly ball the article of clothing into his grasp and pull it tighter around himself to ensure it doesn’t accidentally slip off. 

“I really don’t want to take it off,” the blue eyes quickly avert themselves to stare at the ground; he can practically feel the confused gaze of Tubbo watching his movements. 

“Tommy, are you alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah, Big Man.” 

“As if that isn’t bs,” the ram hybrid snorts, a sound that causes Tommy’s wings to naturally ruffle. The impatience flickering inside his mind only increases over the fact that Tubbo doesn’t seem to be interested in dropping the subject. 

“I’m fuckin’ fine. Stop being clingy.” 

“Genuine concern, thank you very much,” Tubbo swiftly corrects with an unimpressed look entering his soft gaze. “I won’t judge you if you’re scared of me seeing bruises or something. You seem like the type to be clumsy.” 

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean, prick?” Tommy bites back, his arms crossing in irritation. “I’m not fuckin’ clumsy!” 

“Says the one who fell over when I came up behind him!” 

“Oh, fuck off!” despite his defensive tone, a laugh slips itself in between the curse. “My back is not bruised!” 

“Really? Then prove it.” 

Tommy wants to do nothing else but prove the fact that he isn’t a clutz to the other; he’s not helpless, he knows how to avoid falling harshly. “Fuckin’ fine. Want to see my back? Whatever.” 

His chest begins to constrict itself when his fingers unclasp the cape with two shaky hands. It’s gently pulled away to reveal his golden wings that spread greedily to drink in the rising sunlight darting through the forest’s flooring. His mind roars silently with panic over the surprised gasp that’s painfully audible stemming from behind him, his fingers itching to grasp at the dagger lying in the grass beside him. 

He knows it’s rather dramatic to think of Tubbo as being someone who’d attack him, but he isn’t exactly sure why on Earth the bubbly ram is dangerously quiet. 

Tommy finds himself flinching when he hears the flower basket suddenly being toppled to the ground, beginning to scramble to his feet before he freezes in place over the fact that the brunette’s rummaging through the collection of tulips with a determined look on his face. 

“I got the colors all wrong! Pink? What the fuck was I thinking? A golden yellow would work much better! Maybe even some- aha!” 

“Tubbo, what the fuck-?” 

“Stay still! I found some Kees Nelis tulips that’d look great in your hair! It even compliments your wings and outfit!” 

Tommy finds himself unable to register what’s happening before a flower is shoved into his grasp, his hand curling around it to keep it from being blown away by a faint breeze. He scans the plucked plant carefully, the base a faint red color that transitioned to yellow toward the end of the petals. 

There’s no doubt it’s a gorgeous flower, Philza having insisted that he take at least a bundle of them during their walk in the garden. He had compared the colors to the fiery personality the king appreciates so much, the transition to the warm yellow signifying his ability to brighten the day of anyone he pleased. 

The feeling of hands forcing his head to tilt downward pulls him swiftly from his thoughts, fingers combing through his unkempt strands of hair. “Can I ask what you’re doing?” 

“Exactly what I’d said before,” Tubbo responds absentmindedly, “I’m braiding your hair.” 

“What if I don’t want my hair braided by an ugly bastard?” the avian questions teasingly, his wings laying themselves neatly on the ground in order to give the ram hybrid more accessibility to his hair. “I don’t think the hair style’s masculine enough for a big man like me.” 

“Too bad,” Tubbo huffs with a concentrated look entering his face. “And it’s only one, just so that I can place a flower in it. If you had horns, this would be much easier.” 

Tommy allows a sort to escape his lips, “Don’t take this the wrong way, Big Man, but the last thing I want to have is stubby horns nobody can see half the time.” 

His beginning fit of laughter quickly turns into a cough when he feels a hand smack harshly at his shoulder, the ram hybrid clearly having taken offense to the comment. “Sheesh, sorry Mr. Sensitive- Ow!” 

“I don’t think you should be talking when you hid your wings from me, which is something I should be very much upset about.” 

Tommy rolls his eyes at how blatantly fake the offended tone is; how dare the other mock him for hiding his wings beneath Techno’s cape! “I was concerned over my own safety! People would love to have an avian sitting on their shelf.” 

“On their shelf?” Tubbo echoes as he finishes with braiding three clumps of hair together. His hand briefly reaches behind his own head, untying a grass loop from his hair before using it to keep Tommy’s braid from falling out. “I can’t imagine owning someone else.” 

As if to elaborate his disgust in the idea, a shudder rakes itself throughout the ram hybrid’s spine. “Father never really spoke to me about stuff like that, he just generally kept me close to him. Ever since we took- er, moved to our new home, he’s been quite busy with work and hasn’t been spending as much time with me. 

“I did meet someone new, though! His names’ Quackity; he’s really nice and sweet to me.” 

Tommy can’t believe how quickly Tubbo’s tone had changed from sorrowful to back to being bright and upbeat. He had been preparing to chime in with a joke of his own to lift the mood, but the shorter had turned the mood with near perfection. 

“When Father’s not around, he typically looks after me and keeps me company.” 

“Do you not have siblings?” the avian asks curiously. 

“Noo, I’m an only child. Mother left us almost immediately after I was born.” 

Tubbo jolts slightly when he feels a wing tap reassuringly at his ankles while he mindlessly places tulips into the blonde curls in front of him. The comforting nudge is enough to yank him from his recollection of his father shutting down his desperate attempts to get information on her. 

“Tell me more about this Big Q, fellow. He sounds like a cheap babysitter to me.” 

The comment draws a shaky laugh from the ram hybrid. “In a way he is, but he’ll deny it if you tell him that. He really does only ever seek me out when Father isn’t around, but I think that’s because he’s supposed to put up a serious appearance when in the presence of him. He’s always cold whenever my Dad’s around, but he grows ten times more kind the second Father’s gone.” 

“Your dad sounds like a bitch,” Tommy can’t help but comment with an emotionless expression. “He needs to keep his nose out of your business.” 

“I’d like to see you try and tell him that,” Tubbo responds dryly. 

“What? Is he intimidating?” 

“Very.” 

“Nothing a big strong man like myself couldn’t take!” the avian claims, his wings lifting just to display how confident he is in his own abilities. 

“I dread the day you somehow meet my father, Tommy,” Tubbo truthfully remarks, “It’s the day I’ll be hosting an ego funeral for either you or him.” 

The duo laughs at the honesty tracing the shorter’s words, peaceful silence fluttering about them as the ram hybrid continues to place flowers and leaves into his blonde curls. 

“You have beautiful wings, by the way. I almost envy you over them.” 

Tommy’s eyes widen slightly from the compliment, embarrassment causing his head to bury further into his knees. “Thanks, Big Man. They’re nothing like your horns, though. Who wouldn’t want two nearly nonexistent horns that you can barely see?” 

“That’s hella offensive,” Tubbo complains, a finger poking gently at a golden feather. He half expects the other to immediately jerk away, relief flooding his system when he gets a nod of confirmation that his wings can be touched by the ram hybrid. “Besides, they’re supposed to get bigger when I’m older.” 

“Really? If I’m sixteen with a twenty-one-foot wingspan, and you’re, what? Fifteen with two-inch horns?” 

“Excuse me, I’m seventeen with four-inch horns!” Tubbo cries out indignantly. 

“You’re fuckin’ with me. There’s no way that you’re that short and seventeen!” 

“Well, you better believe it because it’s true!” 

“Mm, you’ve definitely convinced me,” Tommy sarcastically responds. 

“Whatever!” 

The two hybrids don’t tease each other after the conversation is followed by Tubbo requesting the other to place white tulips around his horns, Tommy complying without a single trace of hesitance. He enjoys combing through the brown strands of hair before fitting different-sized tulips in the mess of fluffy hair. The only joking comment he does make is a remark over how untamed his hair is, though Tubbo had quickly shut it down as soon as he pointed out the nearly rabid hairstyle Tommy currently adorns. 

Of course, he had placed the blame on the wind for ruffling up his hair, though the duo both know that it naturally looks as though he had just flown for hours in the sky. 

As the sun ventured further up the atmosphere, the mood had shifted from chaotic and energetic to rushed and concerned. It wasn’t long before Tommy found Tubbo shaking the blonde’s wing before pointing toward the sky. “We should really both be on our ways. I’ll get my ass handed to me by Q if I’m late.” 

“Same with me, Big T will slaughter me if I’m caught out even a minute too late. I’d rather not cause my family to erupt into a clusterfuck of panic.” 

A human of agreement rumbles within Tubbo’s throat, “Same time next week?” 

“You know it, Big Man. I’ll kick your ass if you’re not there.” 

“Actually, can we meet up earlier next week to look at the stars?” the ram hybrid asks softly as though he’s fearful over the idea of being shot down by the other. 

“Deal, maybe we can meet up when the moon hits the center of the sky?” 

“Perfect.” 

“Until then, Tommy.” 

“Until then, Tubbo.” 

The hybrids briefly exchange a friendly hug before Tommy launches himself into the sky with Techno’s cape fastened in his arms, his last bit of energy bubbling deep inside him over the anticipation of meeting once again with his friend. He makes sure to take careful note of the exact trees surrounding the patch of trees before he soars back toward the castle, hope fluttering within his heart. 

Maybe the forest isn’t as dangerous as his family’s made it out to be. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's for you, Nylaporp <3
> 
> Love you all so much, thank you guys for all the love and support! Now, buckle in your seatbelts, because this one's going to be a wild one! Mind the warnings/tags, and enjoy Chapter 6!
> 
> WARNING! THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS DEPICTIONS OF BLOOD AND GORE. VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED

“Dagger.” 

Not a trace of hesitance lingers as the dagger properly sheathed within its scabbard is placed into the calloused fingers requesting its appearance. 

“Cape.” 

Just as the dagger had been, the desired article of clothing is placed into the patient grasp extended in front of the trio. 

“Well, fuck me,” Wilbur whistles from beside his elder brother. “I can’t believe you actually pulled this off.” 

“With plenty of time to spare as well,” Techno agrees with a flick of his ear to signal that he’s impressed by the blonde prince. Being a piglin hybrid and not an avian, he doesn't quite comprehend the reason why Tommy so frequently craves the outdoor world, and he’ll never truly know how just how much freedom flows throughout the veins of someone while being suspended mid-air. However, he can see how refreshing it is for Tommy just by gazing at the bright aura surrounding his golden wings. 

The extra limbs have a glossy shine to them, the feathers composed and smooth without any sign of tense or constricted movements. 

For once in his life, Tommy looks...content. 

“I think we broke him, Techno.” 

“Fuck off,” the blonde scowls, swiftly shoving aside the tranquility that’d been humming his impatience to sleep. His eyebrows briefly furrow to physically display his distaste over their disbelief that he’d returned without trying anything. “And of course I fuckin’ came back early. There’s no way I’d risk the chance to get away from you pricks.” 

“We both know you love us, Toms,” Wilbur coos with a heart-warmed expression flooding his facial features. 

“In your dreams, ugly bastard.” 

“I’d say we’re living the dream, then,” the piglin hybrid smirks as a knowing look shoots itself toward the fuming avian. He rises from his seat before beckoning his siblings to follow him toward the exit of the dark-oak-themed bedroom; his long fingers clip the dagger’s scabbard to a hidden loop within his signature red cape before they clasp the article of clothing around his broad shoulders. 

Once satisfied with his cape's placement, Techno reaches mindlessly for a table settled beside his bedroom’s door to swipe up a boar mask, fitting it comfortably on his face so that his red eyes can peer through the eye sockets. 

The action provokes a playful groan from Wilbur, “How are you supposed to find yourself a girl if you’re constantly hiding behind a mask?” 

“Why would I be attempting to court someone?” the hybrid shoots back as the group files into the hallway. He dares a curious glance toward the brunette of the family over why such a comment had been brought up in the first place, his glance only catching Wilbur extending his hands in a bored shrug.

“Every king is supposed to have a queen, aren’t they?” 

“This isn’t some kind of fairytale book,” Techno snorts in disbelief. “And I’m not the king.” 

“Probably never will be.” 

Tommy stiffens when he feels the full-fledged stare of both Techno and Wilbur burning straight into his soul, the duo not having expected such a degrading comment from the youngest of the three. His wings instantly ruffle in a panic over what he had said, mind frantically attempting to recall what joke he had been attempting to make. 

“I-I meant because Phil’s so fuckin’ old!” he stumbles, fury darting into his gaze when the blank stares turn into ones of amusement. “If he’s not dead now, I doubt that prick’s ever going to keel over and die.” 

“Fair enough,” the eldest prince agrees in a gruff voice. 

“Terrible execution of your point, though,” Wilbur rather helpfully supplies. 

“Shut up, you’re no better. Don’t think I forgot about you trying to convince Phil as to why we should introduce sand into our diet,” Tommy snaps as his nose scrunches up in reminder over the whole speech. His older brother looks taken aback by the snap, causing triumph to flare within the avian. The win is short-lived, however, when the taller brunette suddenly lunges at him, a yell escaping his throat at the unexpected movement. “Shove off, prick! STOP!” 

Techno rolls his eyes while Wilbur gives chase around the piglin hybrid in hopes of tackling the youngest of the royal family. He pushes a hand into his forehead over the childish game; nowadays it seems as though he’s the only sane one living under the castle’s roof. Not even Philza can say that the king hasn’t lost his mind yet. 

A screech mixed with surprise and pain emitted from Tommy forces the piglin to forcibly grab Wilbur’s shoulder, dragging the shorter to his side to enable the blonde to recover from the attack. His immediate assumption is that the other had grasped at the golden wings like Wilbur typically did when attempting to draw a response from the other, red eyes casting a warning glare at the man. His mouth opens to remind the other yet again to not sink to Tommy’s level of childish behavior before suddenly his tongue grows dry at the long golden feather laying limp in the other’s gloved fingers. 

Wilbur and Techno stare at each other in stuttered silence, the eldest’s gaze beginning to fill with panic and anger while Wilbur’s floods with panic and concern. 

“What the fuck, Wilbur!” Tommy fumes from in front of the duo, his left wings currently being hugged tightly in his grasp. “That fuckin’ hurt!” 

“Toms, I didn’t mean to-” 

“Well, you did, prick! That hurt!” 

“Tommy, that feather looks kind of long,” Techno informs the other as his hand rubs nervously at the back of his neck. His voice remains monotone despite the fury stirring around the voices ringing in his head. “It wasn’t a primary, was it...?” 

“No,” the avian responds in an instant, “I’d be tearing Wilbur apart right now if it had been. He just snagged one of my secondaries.” 

Relief floods the atmosphere at the given confirmation that they’re in the clear, the older siblings slumping in on each other. They’ve accidentally pulled Tommy’s feathers before during times when their arguments turned into wrestling matches to declare who was right and who was wrong. They’ve never messed with the avian’s primaries, though; it’s an unspoken rule that the group of feathers is never to be touched. 

Whoever does touch them will get their ass handed to them by both Tommy and Techno before they can comprehend the situation at hand. 

“Guess I can be like Phil now,” a nervous attempt is made by Wilbur to salvage the joyous mood, his gloved fingers moving the feather to hang down near his leg. “Shall I find a glass locket to put it in and carry with me wherever I go?” 

Tommy’s wings flare as a mocking tone drips from his voice, “Ooo, look at me! I’m Wilbur! I cried so hard that I made Phil take pity on me and now he has to wear an instrument string on him.” 

“I’ll pull another one of your feathers if you keep that one up,” the older playfully threatens. Despite the joke being in poor taste, it draws a laugh from the youngest of the trio. 

“That shit hurt, though,” Tommy confesses with a grin present in his voice. “You’d be lucky if I didn’t tell Phil about it.” 

The brunette can’t stop himself from paling at the threat currently being made; Philza never joked around when it came to feathers being accidentally pulled. He’ll never forget how loud the king had gotten when a younger Tommy had run to him in tears over how Techno had managed to accidentally slice three of his secondaries during a sparring match. The fearful quiver in their youngest brother’s voice after he realized his feathers had been cut is still branded forever within Wilbur’s mind. 

It’s safe to say that Philza had not been amused by the incident that had occurred that day. It caused the declaration that Techno was banned from combat training for a week, a punishment that had been rather cruel for the Blood God. 

Tommy had whole-heartedly expected the eldest to resent him for getting into deep trouble with Philza, but instead of giving the avian the silent treatment, he instead grew protective over the golden wings. He knows that Philza and Techno had many talks during the week of the punishment, but he can only assume that the older avian had been consistently drilling the idea that the youngest sibling’s feathers are not to be touched into his mind. 

“I don’t think you’re able to be demanding things when they just let you sneak out.” 

The trio freeze in place at the new voice, Tommy whirling around to come face-to-face with Jack’s unimpressed expression staring him down. The wing he’d been taking care of is quickly let go of, the limb fluttering angrily behind his back over being abandoned so suddenly. “And I don’t think you have a right to be spouting off nonsense.” 

“No, no. He’s got a point, Tommy,” Techno grins from beside the avian. Despite having spoken to Tommy, his dagger-filled stare peers solely at the knight. The death glare causes Jack to shift rather uncomfortably in place, not appreciative of being stared down by the Blood God himself. 

“I could’ve told Phil about this little revolution immediately after Techno told me,” Wilbur agrees. 

“This only proves that I was right when I said it was a bad fuckin’ idea to include Wil,” Tommy dryly responds, choosing to ignore the false expression of hurt his brother shoots him. “And even if you did tell him, I still wouldn’t have a single regret about it.” 

The defensive claim only evokes a snort of doubt among the other three. “You’d regret it because it’d mean that you’d never leave Phil’s side for the rest of your life.” 

“Whatever,” the avian brushes off the honest point as though it’s dust, taking a few steps so he could stand beside Jack. “I’m tired as shit, so I’m going to go crash.” 

“Tommy, it’s like midday,” Wilbur laughs, “And Phil is expecting you for lunch.” 

“Actually, that reminds me,” Jack carefully interrupts, an apologetic look quickly sent the brunette prince’s way. 

_What a kiss-ass._

“King Philza has requested your presence, Prince Techno Blade; he said something about needing to discuss plans with you.” 

Techno pauses for a second to ponder the knight’s words before shaking his head. “That’s fine. Just tell him I’m with Wilbur and Tommy.” 

“Your Highness, I meant as in, he has news that requires planning to take place immediately.” 

Both Tommy and Wilbur’s eyebrows raise at the given statement, though its meaning appears to click within the two older princes all too quickly for the avian to comprehend. They share an unreadable glance before the piglin hybrid coughs uncomfortably, “I’ll go find him then. Wil, you should be involved too.” 

“Wait, can I come?” 

“Er, sorry, Tommy,” Techno apologizes; the words sound hollow as he stares at the betrayed look flooding those cold blue eyes. “This is important-” 

“So, I can’t be involved in important meetings?” 

“We let you sneak out and pull shit,” Wilbur defensively brings up, “The least you can do is to go get some rest while we handle this.” 

Tommy can’t believe his brother’s words. 

“Don’t be a prick, why can’t I come?” 

“It’s boring shit you won’t like,” Techno tries in a bored tone that’s thick with vague words. It feels fake to the avian, and his suspicions are only confirmed when the eldest prince refuses to meet his burning gaze. “It regards building park benches.” 

“You’re shit at lying,” Tommy growls impatiently. 

“We’ll tell you about it later,” Wilbur offers with a hopeful expression as Techno takes the time to ruffle the blonde’s locks of hair. A frown notes the hesitance the piglin hybrid has when his fingers pluck a tulip from the other’s hair, confusion leaking into his red gaze before it reverts to being emotionless. 

Tommy takes the time to shove his eldest brother away before staring defiantly up at his siblings. “Promise?” 

“Promise.” 

It was a promise that’d never been fulfilled. 

Instead, the answer to the question Tommy was dying to know was danced around as though it was trapped in an endless waltz with Techno and Wilbur, leaving no room for the avian to take its hand. 

He can distinctly recall the day after when he’d met up with Wilbur to spend time with his sibling. He’d been waiting for the perfect time to confront the other alone so there wouldn’t be any interference to interrupt the news. “So, what did Phil tell you?” 

To his surprise, the prince had behaved as though Tommy hadn’t uttered a word to him, his fingers still strummed a guitar’s strings as he continued to hum alongside it. A few beats of musical notes later and his brother's mouth parted to address the patiently waiting avian. “Could you grab me a pen?” 

“Uh, sure?” the avian had responded as his hand reached for a pile of writing utensils not far from the duo. Wilbur had immediately begun to scribble on a piece of parchment paper, evoking excitement that coursed through his veins as though he’d injected sugar into his system. Was it a secret that his brother couldn’t risk saying aloud just in case someone else heard it? 

Tommy had bounced for minutes in anticipation while his brother wrote on the piece of parchment; the way his wings had fluttered and twitched with every stroke of ink made it painfully obvious that he was expecting some type of answer to be handed to him. 

An answer that never came. 

Wilbur had continued to write until Jack appeared in the doorway to declare that Tommy had to make a trip to the tailors for a new outfit. 

Two days after the encounter with the brunette of the family he’d found the time to meet up with Techno and attempt the same tactic he had with Wilbur. He’d offered to spar with the other using real blades just to give each other the additional rush of adrenaline. 

Mid-fight, Tommy off-handedly brought up Wilbur’s strange behavior after he’d asked about what he spoke about with Philza. In retrospect, it’d been a rather moronic decision to ask such a question in the middle of a dangerous sparring match. 

The piglin hybrid had momentarily frozen at the mention of whatever Philza had discussed behind closed doors, and the avian expected him to drop his sword and declare the match to be over. He’d gone terrifyingly still; the blonde prince thought he’d broken his brother until a particularly fierce blow swung itself at Tommy’s side, a strike that had clumsily been blocked due to the sole unexpectedness of intensity. 

It’d spooked the other with how powerful and effortless the movement was, and it had only grown more terrifying when Techno continued to bring harsh blows to his sword. 

Surprisingly, Tommy had been able to defend himself quite well against the dangerous blade as Techno urged him to match his striking force with the other. 

The avian had earned a few minuscule cuts on the side of his face from times when he was too slow to stop a slice, but he’d done just fine if he excused those. It was clear that the Blood God hadn’t been putting effort into his blows, just having added more strength behind his attacks to keep the other occupied and incapable of holding a conversation. 

Tommy was the only one left panting by the end of the sparring session, one that had been declared over the second Techno purposely dropped his sword on the ground for the avian to clean up and left the room without another word. 

Much to his dismay and annoyance, his siblings outright refused to spill whatever news was being kept from him; a hard look would always enter the piglin hybrid’s gaze and Wilbur always managed to cough awkwardly before offering a new topic to debate over. 

It was infuriating how the duo brushed him off as though he was a pest; his avid attempts dwindled into silent anger after Wilbur hinted about Techno growing hesitant to allow him to sneak out to see Tubbo on the agreed date. 

The memory yanks him violently back into the present day, his mind swiftly locking onto the fact that he’s following Jack through the halls with a flower basket fastened tightly within his grasp from the flower picking he’d completed mere minutes earlier with Philza. 

He’d gathered an array of flowers that he thought Tubbo would appreciate, including what his father had declared as variations of ‘Carnations’ and ‘Daises’. The original plan involved him only bringing two separate types of flowers, though once Philza brought up the lost language of flower-giving, he’d eagerly accepted indulging in another hour’s worth of flower picking. 

One of his favorite flowers he’d picked out had been one called a ‘Columbine’. Its white petals held a pool of color that leaked from the yellow center of the flower and had immediately caught his eye, specifically a purple variation of the plant. At the base of the plant lied five vibrant purple leaves that bring out the matching puddle of color within the petal. Its beauty isn’t even the best part of the collection of it; its meaning is. 

“Fool.” 

That was the word that Philza had murmured under his breath in utter amusement over the prideful prince taking interest in it. What the king didn’t understand was the fact that Tommy was eager over being able to call his friend a moron without the other realizing it and therefore treasuring the bittersweet gift. 

The other few flowers he’d picked surrounded the idea of friendship and innocence, though the plants were all gorgeous and therefore would be appreciated by the ram hybrid without him giving much thought to it. When it came to physical beauty, Tommy’s personal favorite of the bunch had been captured by violets, a flower that he’s sure Tubbo will also adore. 

Now all he has to do is ensure that Techno won’t deny him access to his balcony window or alert Philza of his plan to sneak out. 

“Your highness?” 

“What?” Tommy instinctively responds as he pulls himself yet again from his thoughts to stare at the bored stare of his knight. 

“Are you attending your nightly activities tonight?” 

There’s a confused expression that briefly flashes across the prince’s face over how vague the question is before it’s quickly covered by a confident look. “Yeah, it’ll be complete by noon, just like last time.” 

Jack hums to himself before gesturing toward the door to Tommy’s right; the door to his room. It’s opened within a moment's notice, the duo slipping in while the door closes behind them. “I suppose I’ll leave you to that, then. 

“Try not to get yourself killed.” 

A snort escapes the prince’s throat before he can stop it, his eyes rolling. “Thanks,” he mindlessly mutters; he doesn’t let thankfulness underline his words. “You’re dismissed.” 

Jack whisks himself back into the hallway in an instant, leaving Tommy alone in the candle-lit setting. 

Once it’s confirmed that the avian’s alone, his gaze darts toward the dark oak table that Techno had left supplies on last week, anxiety seizing his chest when he notices the absence of the iconic red cape. 

Is this the piglin hybrid declaring that he isn’t allowed to go? 

In the cape’s wake is left an object embedded deep into the wood, the prince creeping closer to further inspect it. The item’s silver glint leads him to recognize it as the same dagger Techno had left him only a week ago. 

The weapon being stabbed in the table is either an angry offer of a compromise, or it’s a sign that the eldest prince is fine with him flying out to meet with Tubbo tonight. Either way, the object’s grasped carefully and pulled from the table before it’s slipped into the corresponding scabbard that had been waiting patiently on one of his velvet chairs. 

Tommy tucks the knife comfortably into the flower basket as though its second nature, an old blanket chosen from his nest before its graciously carried over to be tied around the basket. He would love to use a blanket that looks better, but Tubbo had taken both the basket and its covering with him after they had bid their goodbyes to each other. 

He’d much rather keep the comfortable blankets to himself until he’s sure he’ll be able to get new ones in a moment’s notice. 

The process of readying himself goes much more smoothly than last time, the teenager had already been wearing his comfort clothes of a red t-shirt and brown shorts. To be honest, he feels rather exposed without the protective encasing Techno’s cape gives him. 

Shaking himself away from the thought to swipe his eldest brother’s cape if possible, he grasps the flower basket before darting into Jack’s room across from his to stare at the moon’s positioning. The knight doesn’t utter a single word during this time, awkward silence being shared between the two as his blue eyes peer curiously out the thin window above the man’s bed. 

The moon’s three-quarters on its way to the top of the sky, wings stiffening as he slips back into the hall to begin his descent to Techno’s room. The sheathed dagger taps persistently against the basket’s wooden weaving pattern as though it’s a clock ticking down each step it takes to reach its destination. His legs fell almost like jello as the doorway comes into his view, his mind beginning to debate how the following conversation may turn out. 

He could open the door to be greeted by Wilbur and Techno like last time and bid his farewells before taking off into the night sky. 

Or he could open the door and immediately be refused access to the outside world. 

Techno and Wilbur won’t make the same mistake of letting him break for the door like the day he ran away if their mind is set on not allowing their younger brother to flee to the clouds. 

“Deep breaths,” Tommy mutters to himself as his fingers push open the left door and enable him to slip into the room. Time feels as though it’s slowing while he turns around to analyze the bedroom, his eyes immediately locking onto his two siblings waiting patiently beside the balcony doors. 

The atmosphere lacks a trace of tension, though the avian doesn’t allow the relaxed setting to lower down his guard. “Wilbur, Techno.” 

“Tommy,” Techno respectively greets with an indifferent expression present. The smile Wilbur’s offering him looks knowing but it doesn’t quite cause his eyes to crinkle. 

Whatever thought is running throughout his brunette sibling’s mind is nothing but concerning to Tommy. 

“Is there a reason you’re crowding about the balcony like there’s a bitch behind it?” 

The avian tenses when his question earns him Techno approaching his figure, his wings flaring out behind him instinctively. The behavior causes the piglin hybrid to pause in place and remain standing a few feet from his youngest sibling to appear as nonthreatening as possible. 

“Wilbur and I have been talking this past week,” the Blood God begins. 

“No shit you’ve been talking. And you’ve both been doing a hell of a job avoiding me,” Tommy snaps bitterly. He ignores the uncomfortable shuffle his eldest brother does, instead choosing to focus on the sympathy and conflict clashing within his brother’s red gaze. 

His mouth parts to utter an explanation before Wilbur manages to beat him to it with a tired sigh, “It’s complicated.” 

“How the fuck is it complicated?” Tommy finds himself hissing, irritation over having been ignored this entire week fueling his anger. “You suddenly shut me out after you two talked with Phil about some shitty news! Did some ugly bastard come and smack one of the guards or something?” 

“Tommy, we’re going to-” 

“Techno,” Wilbur warns, eyes narrowing into Tommy’s furious blue gaze. “We don’t think it’s a good idea to let you go out tonight, Toms.” 

“Like you’re going to fuckin’ stop me.” 

“We just want to have a conversation,” the brunette prince calmly explains. It’s clear to the youngest prince that his brother’s attempting to suppress the overwhelming amounts of anxiety threatening to shake his world. “The overall decision whether to go or not is up to you, but this talk needs to be had.” 

“Then talk. You’re both wasting my time.” 

“You can afford a few minutes,” Wilbur cautiously reasons as he debates the avian’s reaction to his words. “We’ve recently been in a border conflict with Manberg and we don’t think that you should be flying around at night with no way to contact someone if you get in trouble.” 

“That’s why Techno gave me a dagger,” Techno points out, venom dripping sourly from his mouth. “I can take care of myself if something happens.” 

“We know that,” Techno agrees, “But if they get the upper hand, you won’t have anyone searching for you until noon.” 

“They won’t get the upper hand,” is Tommy’s defensive statement. 

“I feel like you’re not listening,” Wilbur sighs, pressing a hand to his forehead. How on Earth is he supposed to get through to the arrogant gremlin standing defiantly in front of them.

“If a massive army comes after you, there’s no way in hell you can take them,” the piglin hybrid tries with furrowed eyebrows. 

“Why the fuck would an army be coming after me?” 

“I said that I’d do the talking,” Wilbur scowls before shooting a glare toward the eldest of the trio. 

“I’m not going to sugar coat reality for him.” 

“But you’ll sugar coat anything not relating to bloodshed? Don’t be a moron.” 

“You’re the moron here,” Techno growls, “If you want to get your point across then stop bullshitting him.” 

Tommy’s foot taps impatiently at the rising voices beginning to engulf the room. He wouldn’t be surprised if Philza ended up bursting into the room with how loud the argument’s getting. “Hey, guys? I don’t have fuckin’ time for you two to be fighting. Cut the bullshit and tell me.” 

“Fine. Techno, tell him.” 

“I thought you wanted to do all the talking.” 

“Oh, my fucking- fine. There’s no winning, is there?” 

“Get on with it, already!” 

The avian crosses his arms expectantly at the sharp inhale Wilbur takes. 

“Phil’s declared war on Manberg.” 

Tommy pauses as his words begin to filter properly through his ears, confusion violently shoving his anger over being left in the dark aside. Philza had declared war? 

The king’s known for being nothing but peaceful to neighboring kingdoms, offering aid if their land was being unfairly invaded by tyrannical rulers. Tommy hadn’t even been adopted when the last kingdom’s war ended; it had been a war that the Hermit Kingdom and the Antarctic Empire had fought together to defend their home territory. 

War strikes nothing but fear into the hearts of the public and therefore it’s avoided at all costs.

It's a promise that Philza had made to the Antarctic Empire a solid decade ago.

But for Philza to now go and initiate conflict? For him to decide that he should put so many lives in danger without the resourceful back up of the Hermit Kingdom, the citizens could fall in between the war efforts and- 

Tubbo. 

Techno firmly grabs Tommy’s shoulder to keep him in place when the avian springs up in a state of sudden panic. “Calm down, nothing’s happened yet. Phil sent out the declaration a few days ago.” 

“Fuckin, get off me! I don’t need to be coddled!” the younger shouts, wings batting aimlessly at the taller hybrid. With no power enforcing his blows, the grip on his shoulder never loosens itself. “Let go; I need to tell Tubbo about this. He needs to know!” 

Wilbur instantly lunges at the panicky breaths his younger brother’s beginning to intake, sweeping the avian into a careful hug before allowing Techno to pull the duo into an even bigger hug like that had last week. “Let’s think about this logically, Toms, okay? It’s not the end of the world.” 

The desperate glare that’s shot the brunette’s way is all he needs to know that Tubbo’s safety truly means the world to the other. 

“Tubbo lives in one of the villages near the forest, yeah?” 

Tommy finds himself nodding before he can even debate the true answer to the question. 

“What if we brought him back to the castle with us? Techno and I could ride out on horses and meet you guys at noon. That’d give him plenty of time to fetch his things from his house.” 

“Phil would be pissed,” the avian comments softly, forcing himself to calm down at the reassuring plan that’s being formed as he clutches Wilbur’s arm for dear life. 

Noticing this, Techno gently rubs the blonde’s back. “We can handle him. And he won’t turn Tubbo away.” 

“Why wouldn’t he?” 

“He clearly means something to you, Tommy. And if he’s willing to come to live in the castle with us, that means he’s got nothing left for him in his own home. Phil won’t turn away someone who feels as though they have nowhere left to go, let alone a child who’s at risk of being caught in the middle of a war.” 

Tommy’s grasp on Wilbur’s arm loosens only slightly as he melts into the warm embrace of his siblings, allowing their comforting reassurances to swirl throughout his mind. His once shaky breaths begin to turn normal, his lungs satisfied with the return of stable amounts of oxygen. “So, I’m allowed to go meet Tubbo?” 

“Of course,” Wilbur and Techno confirm in unison, carefully withdrawing once they know their younger brother isn’t in a state of panic over the safety of his friend. They don’t know much about how close the two have grown, but they could get a good idea judging by Tommy’s mind having immediately switched to prioritizing Tubbo’s safety. 

“We’ll meet you both at noon,” Techno repeats, “I know the directions so it won’t be an issue finding you two as long as you don’t wander off to piss off a deer or something.” 

“Just stay out of trouble, gremlin,” the brunette prince smiles, offering yet another brief hug before gesturing toward the balcony doors. “You’re burning moonlight, Icarus!” 

“You’re going to turn into Tech with that mythology reference!” Tommy complains despite the thankful expression he’s displaying toward his siblings. He isn’t quite sure what he’d do without them... 

His grip on the flower basket returns as he dashes for the balcony doors, pushing the metal frames aside with ease before lifting himself into the sky. 

The rush of excitement that had fueled the harsh beat of his wings last week remains plagued by a sense of urgency and desperation to find the ram hybrid as quickly as possible. With the guarantee of war swirling about the air, he doesn’t want to waste a second by paying mind to how the moonlight tans his fair skin. 

The playful nips the night air brings to his bare arms turn numb as soon as his blue eyes lock onto the North Star he’ll be following. With the journey being rather an easy journey direction-wise, he’s able to focus on more important matters like how he’ll break the news to Tubbo. 

“Big man! 

“-No, no, that sounds too casual- 

“Tubbo! 

“-That’s better? - 

“No time to explain, we need you to pack your things right fuckin’ now! 

“-That’s too vague, goddamnit- 

“Phil just declared war with Manberg, we have to go now. I have a safe place we can go that they’ll never be able to invade. We can be roommates and shit! 

“Why the fuck is this so hard?” Tommy curses to himself, bundling the basket of flowers tight within his arms as he soars higher into the atmosphere. His fingers dig mindlessly underneath the blanket to pluck a single flower from it before the covering is corrected back to its original state. 

His eyebrows knit in slight anger over the white and purple petals that mockingly lash at his fingers, threatening to drop themselves to the ground thousands of feet below the flying avian. 

“Thanks, Universe,” he sarcastically mutters as he twirls the Columbine in between his hands. “I’m not a fuckin’ fool, but okay.” 

Tommy permits the natural call of wind brushing past his ears to distract him from the anxiety beginning to crawl across his throat. Maybe he is a fool for thinking that Tubbo would instantly accept his offer to come back to the castle. The ram hybrid had just been speaking of how kind ‘Quackity’ was to him and he’d only known the avian for approximately three weeks. 

Can he truly be sure that he can ensure the safety of Tubbo if the other isn’t even willing to comply with his offer to seek refuge in the castle? 

It holds acres of flowers that he knows Tubbo would adore being able to view, acres that Philza would share and explain without an ounce of hesitance to be shown. He could teach Tubbo how to properly spar with the help of Techno, or teach the ram hybrid how to play the piano if he didn’t know how to. 

Maybe he could even convince Philza to let him take a flight only a hundred feet above the castle with Tubbo secured in his grasp. 

_Who the fuck would reject the offer of becoming royalty?_

Tommy tries his hardest to replace the anxious doubt with barriers of confidence and excitement, determination surging through his limbs as he spots the familiar bundle of trees whose canopy just barely hides the patches of grass where he had first met Tubbo. With the flower basket fastened tightly in his hand, he carefully begins his descent, golden wings curved in a slight hover position to produce a cautious amount of drag. 

He isn’t sure how well the flowers would do if he decided to plummet straight into the trees without any precautions. 

The whipping of the wind briefly calms itself as he slowly descends to the canopy of trees, his gaze scanning his surroundings in an attempt to seek a branch he could safely land on. His search briefly stops when the shuffling of leaves below him unnaturally shifts and bends in an awkward angle. 

Surely the breeze hadn’t caused something like that. 

“What the fuck-?” 

Tommy barely has time to register what’s happening before an object flings itself his way, wings all too late in covering himself with a cry of anguish tearing at his vocal cords. Flames of pain engulf his figure as his wings turn limp mid-flight, the wind lashing violently while gravity begins to yank him back to the Earth’s surface. 

He’s unable to stop the tears embedding themselves deep within his petrified blue gaze, the flower basket unhooking itself from his arm and flinging sideways before disappearing into the canopy of trees. It leaves his mind to focus on two things:

One, the pain riveting throughout his core that's forcing his bones to tremble instinctively.

Two, the terrifying reality that he's falling and unable to slow himself down.

Tommy claws furiously at the night sky as though he could swim back into the atmosphere, fingers desperately grasping at nothing as he descends all too quickly with his back facing the ground. 

It isn’t until the jolt of a sharp branch rakes itself across his wings that he tears himself away from trying to get back into the sky, warm liquid soaking the back of his shirt as the trees seem to make their best efforts to catch his falling figure. They only succeed in ripping mercilessly at his uncovered skin, cuts tearing themselves deep within his skin as he brokenly shrieks in pure agony over the pain. 

His voice chokes when his body slams harshly against the grass flooring that he’d once found joy laying in, the blades lashing furiously at his back while they're drowned with the thick substance of blood flowing from his chest and back. He finds himself unable to shuffle with the sheer amount of pain overtaking his mind in hot flashes, the feeling erasing any logical thought he could imagine and replacing it with the agonizing reality of what’s occurring in front of him. 

His left wing remains curled uncomfortably in between his body weight and the grass snapping angrily below him. 

“H-Huk-” 

His jaw remains unhinged at an awkward angle, his lips unable to touch and therefore turning his ‘f’s into gasped ‘h’s. Terror strikes him when his lungs suddenly seize with liquid, the urge to cough tearing its way into his brain as his vision swims. 

He can’t- 

He can’t, fuck- 

His call for help turns into a gurgled sob muffled by the sour taste of blood flooding his throat. It feels as though he’s being suffocated under the sheer intensity of the thick liquid threatening to drown him on the patch of grass that once represented innocent friendship. He desperately wills for his arms to move and assist him with turning onto his side, tears streaming down his cheeks when the limbs refuse to move. 

His sobs remain choked as blood verbally sloshes about the inside of his throat, his chest still igniting with explosions of pain that refuse to settle no matter how much he focuses on attempting to keep himself from drowning in the thick coating of blood. 

Hope flutters momentarily within him when he locates the sound of footsteps approaching him, vocal cords shredding themselves with the shriek that’s caused by a harsh kick of a boot snapping his head to the side. 

Instantly, blood that’d been blocking his airway pools onto the ground below him, flowing in an endless stream from his mouth and onto the grass. His left wing is momentarily freed by the changed position of his head and shoulders, though it remains creased in half and hanging limply off his body as though he’d been wearing it as a costume. 

Tommy wants to scream and shout words to fury and anger, pained hiccups and cries wracking through his body every time he wills himself to move to no avail. 

“Good evening, Tommy.” 

Said prince’s mindless noises of pain dull into a quivering wail at the smug voice echoing above his struggling figure. He’s surprised he can even hear the taunting words with how loud his mind is screaming for his limbs to start moving and help defend himself. But he can't do anything.

He’s helpless. 

Left completely at the mercy of the masked lunatic currently kneeling to get a better look at the bloodied and pained expression trapped on the paralyzed avian’s face. 

“Tommy, Tommy, Tommy. You’re rather far from home, aren’t you?” 

A muffled grunt of anguish and fear is the only answer Dream needs to know he’s grasped the other’s complete attention. 

“I thought Phil would’ve taken my threat seriously a few weeks back.” 

A black-gloved hand brings itself to its owner's mouth in a mock gasp of surprise, “Unless Phil doesn’t know you’re out here at this time of night...could you imagine that? 

“Nobody here to help you... 

“Just Death gradually taking your hand as you fight for your final breaths. 

“I could leave you here to die alone.” 

The comment provokes a sob scrapping itself from Tommy’s throat before it transitions into a choked yell of frustration. He’s desperately attempting to drag himself to spit out the blood swelling within his lungs. 

“You abandoned your family to hang out with a stranger in the middle of a forest,” amusement flickers within Dream's jeer, shaking his head before stretching out his arms to taunt how much control he holds over his movements in comparison to the paralyzed avian lying beside him. “If the wolves end up feasting on your body, at least there’ll still be a pile of bones and blood to show what happened if someone does come looking for you. 

“Do you think they'll eat your wings too? Or would those remain lying blood-stained on the ground beside you for Phil to collect-?” 

“Tommy!” 

The masked individual’s head snaps up instantly at the calling voice, irritation defining his features as he harshly nudges the dying avian with his foot. A pitiful gargle of a cry falls from the other’s lips, his blue eyes staring into the clouds as though he’s stuck in a daze. 

“Tommy! I got flowers for-!” 

“Please! Come quick! I found this avian, and h-he's hurt! Bad!” 

The blonde prince wants to scream for the ram hybrid to flee and ignore Dream’s yell of faked distress, to run away before the hunter has time to slaughter him as well. He’ll never forgive himself if he causes the other’s untimely demise. 

His heart plummets deeper into his shredded heart as his ears pick up the desperate footsteps dashing to his side, a sob shuddering throughout his body as his mind gives into pure and utter terror and forces blood to begin to pound within his ears. 

“TOMMY!” 

Tubbo’s vocal cords shriek in protest over his scream, the ram hybrid throwing himself at the limp body on the ground beside the kneeling masked man. His hands shakily reach out, gaze darting about frantically in an attempt to find the best way to help the avian reeking of the fresh scent of blood. “We need to get him to Dad, now! Dream, I can’t, I can’t- IS THAT A FUCKING ARROW?” 

Tommy’s eyes would’ve clenched shut at the enraged cry had he been able to, his fingers growing numb as his nerves tear throughout his soul with pain from both his spine and his chest. His sobs turn into a gargled gasp when he feels pressure suddenly collapse his chest inwards, tears racing down his face. 

“Tommy, it’s okay, it’s okay. Stay, stay with me, Big Man...” 

Tubbo shakes violently as he pushes the piece of his shirt that he had ripped off around the arrow gruesomely sticking itself out of the other’s shivering figure. 

Or perhaps he's trembling so badly that it's making it look at though the avian's shaking.

“Dream, please fucking help him. Please!” 

Sympathy ignites within the hunter’s gaze as he stares upon the two hybrids, Tommy’s stuttered gasps for oxygen turning scarcer with every second that passes. He nearly misses the look of confusion that momentarily washes over those glossy blue eyes before it’s replaced yet again with pure pain and fear. 

Dream forces his hands to turn shaky to match Tubbo’s, his left hand pulling at his hair to appear concerned over Tommy’s health. “I-I don’t think I have anything-” 

“I’ll do anything, Dream. Please, just save him!” 

The green gaze flashes triumphantly behind his mask as his right hand fishes itself into the leather satchel slung around his shoulder. A glass bottle filled with glowing pink liquid is pulled out, his hand sloshing it about before offering it to Tubbo. “Make him drink this. It’s a regeneration potion; it’ll stabilize him until we can get him to Manberg and have someone properly patch him up-” 

Tommy barely registers the idea that his head’s being lifted until his vision swims yet again, the cold touch of a hand touching the top of his neck bringing him back to the present. His mind screams at him that something is touching his lips, the liquid spilling into his mouth and beginning to mix with the blood daring to clot within his throat yet again. 

“Tommy, s-stay with me. Come on, it’s okay-” 

Sobs break Tubbo’s attempts at reassurance, tears streaming down his once smiling face when he notices his best friend’s gaze begins to dim and grow more tranquil. Panic fills his senses, eyes clenching shut as if to block out the intrusive thoughts of the avian’s death threatening his sanity. 

“That’s just the potion doing its job,” Dream soothes in a shockingly calm voice. “It’ll slip him into a coma-like state while it attempts to repair the damage done. I only have two more potions, so we’ll stop when we’re halfway to the castle-” 

Tommy finds himself unable to keep up with the conversation between his assailant and best friend, the words growing quiet while darkness begins to pull at his body as water would to a beached stick. Despair surges throughout his frame in accompany with the buzz of numbness, his mind unable to comprehend the idea of moving his limbs to punch or swipe at the black screen invading his vision. 

A single glance to the sky is made in the hopes that it’ll keep him anchored to reality if even for a few more seconds, blue eyes catching sight of a purple and white flower gliding gracefully down to Earth as though it remains unaware of the events that had just taken place. 

Its five purple leaves flutter as his wings once did, twirling with the night sky’s breeze as his sight finally gives way to the sheet of darkness engulfing him within a state of helplessness. 

_Maybe I am just a fool._

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to leave constructive criticism in the comments, it helps a lot and encourages me to continue writing! This story will most likely be updated every week or so, depending on how fast I'm able to get chapters out.
> 
> I hope you all have a lovely day!


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